Of Life and Living
by reenas-as
Summary: Life on the surface wasn't as hard as Angela had expected. There was only one reason for that and it could be summed up in a single word: Dingo. Snapshots into the life Angela and Dingo share after Angela was expelled from DEVA. Timeframes range from immediately after the movie to several years later.
1. Flight Suit

FLIGHTSUIT

Angela stood in her bedroom contemplating her wardrobe choices for the day. She didn't have a lot of options –life on the surface didn't provide much opportunity for excess– but she'd picked up a few things over the last two years. One of the first things she and Dingo had done upon her exile was to buy her a new outfit for everyday wear. Dingo had said they didn't want to attract the wrong kind of attention –by which he meant male attention– and Angela felt it couldn't hurt to fit in. It was also nice not to have to fend off men in every town they passed through. Not that she didn't occasionally have to do that anyway.

But today was her eighteenth birthday –which was really her twenty-fifth birthday, but since she'd shaved seven years off this body's age in the interest of saving time on its growth, it seemed easier just to go with her physical age most of the time– and as she eyed her standard jeans and button down shirt, so similar to Dingo's only more feminine, she decided that today she wanted to attract attention. She bypassed her surface clothing and reached into the back of the closet to pull out her old, standard issue, DEVA flight suit instead.

She snorted as she put it on. "Flight suit," her ass. It was a bathing suit with boots – and just barely that. How had she never realized how little this thing covered? Of course, it covered even less now that she was two years taller and fuller.

It still fit though. Technically.

She studied her form in the mirror. She was attractive. More than attractive. Sexy. But would that be enough?

A sudden and rare case of nerves tied her stomach in knots. She sternly mastered the sensation, breathing deeply until she felt confidence return.

She was damn hot and she could do anything she set her mind to.

Right?

Yes. She could do this.

She took one last, calming breath and strode out into the makeshift kitchen of the makeshift home she shared with her partner. Said partner was busily cooking a breakfast of sandworm meat and desert hen eggs.

"Hey, breakfast is almost up," Dingo said, cheerful and laid back as ever. "Take a – seat?" The last word came out a slightly choked almost question as he turned and got his first look at her. He cleared his throat subtly and one brow winged upward in question. "Feeling nostalgic Ange?" he asked. "Not that you don't have the right to wear whatever you want around the house, but I hope you're planning on changing before we go into town."

It was a little annoying how he still spoke to her like he was her father sometimes, or maybe her big brother. More so today, because if that was really how he saw her it was going to throw a serious wrench in her birthday plans.

Then he winked at her, her affable partner again. "We're never gonna get anything done with you looking like that." He gave her an appreciative once over, restoring her confidence once more. "Unless you count gaining attention."

She sniffed. "Maybe I do," she said, aware she sounded snobbish, but too embarrassed to temper her tone and expression.

Up went that brow again, drawing her gaze against her will. Was it wrong she found that sexy?

"Oh," he said. And then he froze and did a sort of double take. " _Oh_ ," he repeated, tone knowing.

"Is that a problem?" she asked archly, challenging him. "This body is of age now. And you know I'm older than that."

"No, no. Of course not," he assured her. "I just didn't realize you were interesting in anyone, that's all. Good for you." He slid breakfast onto tin plates and then abandoned them to turn and lean back against the stove on his elbows, watching her. "Anyone I know?" he asked, infuriatingly casual.

It made her even more embarrassed – and angry. Should she really have to spell this out for him after all this time? Her cheeks warmed, probably flushed now, and she couldn't do it after all. She couldn't tell him. Her gaze slid away from his sparkling eyes almost against her will. "Considering you know everyone I know? Likely," she said, voice gone flat.

He grinned and turned back to grab the plates with casual grace – insufferable jerk.

"So," he asked, nonchalant, as he turned to carry their breakfast to the table, "Is it Bradley?"

She glared at the wall. "No," she said, voice going even more flat, if that was possible.

"Ryuske then?"

Her razor glare turned toward him. It was a practiced look, one that had cowed lesser men, but he was Dingo, and so he met her cold gaze with a lopsided grin.

Stupid Dingo. He was such a moron.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Is it Kevin?" he asked as they finished up their shopping. She didn't answer, but that didn't shut him up. "Hans?"

He'd been pestering her, listing the names of every male of their acquaintance, all day and it was getting on her nerves.

"I know!" He slammed a fist into the opposite palm. "Gordon!"

She turned a withering stare upon him at the mention of their ammunition supplier who was easily in his sixties and about forty-five pounds overweight.

He raised his hands in a mockery of surrender, but didn't drop the subject. "Come on, give me a hint?" he pled. "I've named every guy we know!"

Except, of course, the obvious one, but Dingo was too stupid to realize that, and at this point she might even be glad of it. How had this become so damn embarrassing?

Angela didn't do embarrassed well, so she rolled her eyes and moved ahead. Honestly, he was so dense it was painful. She felt eyes follow her as her hips swayed – Dingo's, and others. Not as many as there would have been had she _not_ changed before they began their errands. The flight suit had been a stupid idea anyway. He probably didn't even like that kind of thing.

"Now that's just mean, Angela." He pouted. Actually pouted. And damn it if it wasn't adorable. "I'd tell you if I had interest in someone."

That comment almost stopped her short. She'd never thought of that. Though it was a bit of a relief to hear it. She'd been beginning to fear he was playing dumb deliberately because he was seeing someone behind her back and didn't know how to tell her. Not that it'd be "behind her back" technically speaking. It wasn't like they were together.

Yet.

She sighed. "Let's go home, Dingo."

He nodded and grabbed the last of their supplies.

"Wait," he said to her retreating back. "Is it Nelson? Please tell me it's not Nelson," he begged.

Lips compressed into a line of irritation, Angela didn't answer.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He made her a special birthday dinner with supplies he'd somehow snuck into their standard shopping. It was sweet, and completely unnecessary, and it gave her the courage to make another attempt despite the failure the day had been so far.

"Happy birthday," he said, voice soft to match his expression as he slid a lopsided attempt at cake in front of her. Dingo was a decent cook, but baking was hard with what was available on the scorched remnants of planet Earth.

"Thanks," she murmured. She hoped he wouldn't notice her blush in the fading evening light.

He dropped easily into the seat across from her, hands folded on the table, watching her with a gentle smile.

She stared at the cake, willing the blush from her cheeks, and after a moment he cleared his throat.

"Uh, look."

She knew if she looked up he'd be rubbing his broad hand over the short hairs at the back of his neck, but she didn't do it. She couldn't face him just yet – she was still gathering her courage.

"I'm sorry about today," he said. "I shouldn't have teased you like that. You have the right to be interested in someone without me breathing down your neck. I'm always here if you want to talk, but you don't ever have to feel obligated to tell me anything." He laughed, and it was a little bit stilted, she thought. "I'm not your father or anything."

No, he really wasn't. And, God, she hoped he meant that.

"Thanks," she said again, for lack of anything better to say. She took a bite of cake. It was good, despite it's less than perfect appearance. It sort of reminded her of Dingo: rough on the outside, but on the inside . . . sweet.

His hand brushed hers lightly, as though in apology. It sent heat all through her and she decided it was time to stop beating around the bush.

She pushed her plate back abruptly and shoved to her feet before she could lose her nerve. Dingo watched her, clearly startled, as she practically stomped around the tiny table to his side. He blinked stupidly as she wrapped her fingers in his lapels, clueless, even now.

"You are an idiot, Zarik Kajiwara," she informed him with fond exasperation. And then she kissed him soundly on the lips.

When she finally released him, Dingo gaped at her like the idiot she'd accused him of being. She didn't have the courage to hold his astonished gaze, she'd used it all up in that single moment of bravery, and her own gaze skittered sideways.

"Ange?" he breathed at length.

She could feel the blush down to her toes this time. Stupid real world body and its involuntary reactions. So embarrassing!

Still, she'd come too far to back down now. "It's you, okay?" she said, almost an accusation. "I wanted _you_ to notice me."

His chair scraped softly on the rough concrete floor and suddenly he was towering over her, well inside her personal space. Which, of course, he would be because she was the one who had invaded _his_ personal space to begin with and he was just so tall . . .

His hands skimmed down her arms. "I always notice you, Angela." His voice had gone slightly husky and that, coupled with the barely there contact of his fingertips on her flesh, prompted another involuntary reaction – this time a shiver. One of his hands moved up to brush the side of her face. "I just . . . really?" he asked.

She bit her lip, a nervous habit she didn't remember having in DEVA. Why was he so surprised? It made her uncertain.

"I understand if you're not interested," she backpedaled quickly. Maybe he really did see her as a younger sister. Oh God, how embarrassing.

His hand caught hers in a gentle but inextricable grasp as she tried to turn away.

"I didn't say that."

"You aren't saying much of anything," she countered, which was not at all like him. She didn't like it, she decided.

He stepped forward, body brushing hers, and tucked her into the space there in a single smooth motion. His arms were warm around her back and she felt herself beginning to relax for the first time all day.

"You sure?" he asked, and she didn't have to ask what he meant. She wondered if she imagined the trembling in his taut frame.

She gave one short nod in answer.

His thumb brushed her lower lip, slowly, deliberately, and her gaze finally sought his.

He smiled at her and then leaned down to catch her mouth with his.

It was good. So good. So much better than the mashing of lips their earlier kiss had been, probably because they were both fully involved this time. His lips pulled at hers, soft and warm, and so much more skilled than she'd been expecting. Or maybe it was just that she wanted him so damn much.

He was grinning when he finally pulled away.

"I like you too," he said, his twinkling eyes belying his solemn tone.

She rolled her eyes. "What are we, kids?" she scoffed, mostly to keep from melting into a puddle at his feet.

"Are you saying you don't like me?" He affected a pout.

She shoved at his chest, trying to gain enough space to cross her arms. "I'm saying you're being an idiot again. It's making me reconsider."

"And yet, you're still staring at my lips," he observed, teasing.

She pursed her own lips tightly. "I haven't kissed anyone in this body before." Hadn't kissed anyone in any body before. She'd never had the time for romantic entanglements in DEVA. Not that she was going to tell Dingo that.

He arched a brow, more surprised than skeptical. As if he couldn't believe men hadn't lined up for her attentions in her past life. "Really?"

Desperate to hide her sudden insecurity, she played the vixen. She turned her hands to trace light fingertips across his chest. "Guess what else I haven't done in this body?" She gave him a coy wink at the same moment she brushed a nipple through his shirt.

He swallowed hard enough she actually heard it.

"I can, ahem," he cleared his throat, "think of a thing or two." His gaze darted away and then back, heavy with a weight she didn't understand. "But, uh, isn't that moving a little fast? We only confessed two minutes ago."

Wait – did he not want to? But— he said he liked her! And there was some pretty solid evidence of his interest pressed against her right thigh. "We've lived together for two years, Dingo," she said with practiced patience. It was possible she was missing something here. She didn't want to screw things up by flying off the handle like the child she wasn't.

"Well yeah, but—"

He'd loosed his hold slightly and she crossed her arms, putting space between them. Was he playing the gentleman or was he actually serious? "Today is my eighteenth birthday, or my twenty-fifth, depending on how you're counting. Either way, it's a milestone and I'm going to celebrate. Now, if you're not interested, I'm sure I can find someone who is." She turned toward her room. "I'll just go get my flightsuit, shall I?"

Steel banded arms locked around her waist. His lips pressed against her ear through her hair.

"Hey now. No need for that. I'm just saying it's been a while for both of us, and this is new, and— damn it, Ange," he cursed softly, worry evident in the sudden change in his tone. "We're partners. What happens if this doesn't work out?"

She turned in his arms, anger slipping away. "I'm not planning to walk away if you're not," she promised.

He squeezed her closer. "I'm not."

She smiled, arms slipping up around his neck. "Then I don't see what the problem is. Unless you're out of practice," she teased, attempting to lighten the mood.

He growled at her. Easy-going, unflappable, Dingo actually _growled_ at her. It sent a tingle down to places she hoped would soon see use for the first time.

Still, Dingo was hardly running for the bedroom, either bedroom, despite the look of raw hunger shadowing his eyes. Clearly something was still bothering him.

She titled her head at him in question.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, uh, your 'material construct', is it fully functioning?" he asked.

She bristled. "Of course it is! I—"

He shushed her with gentle fingers against her lips. "I mean, biologically speaking. Now is really not a good time to accidentally start a family, if you know what I mean."

She flushed. "Oh." She hadn't thought of that. Mostly because it wasn't an issue on DEVA.

"It's okay," he hurried to assure her. "I, uh," he coughed, "I've got some things. I mean, I'm prepared. Or I should be." That one hand crept up to his neck, but her hands were in the way so he dropped it awkwardly to his side and he looked away as his face colored slightly. She didn't think she'd ever seen Dingo blush before. Well, maybe that one time when he'd walked in on her in the bath. "Well, I've had them for awhile, and I'm not sure how long they're good, but we should be okay. I think."

His sudden shyness boosted her confidence. She twined her fingers in the hair at his nape and then slid one hand down along the scruff at his jaw to turn his face back to hers. "How long has it been, Dingo?"

His cheeks darkened. "Uh, three years? Four? Definitely before I met you."

She grinned.

"Hey, not all guys are easy," he defended. "It just never seemed right."

"I'm not making fun of you," she assured him and rose on her toes to give him a gentle, chaste kiss. "I'm actually kind of flattered." It was nice to know they'd be on something close to even ground in this.

"Are you now?" His tone changed, becoming pleased and perhaps a touch sly. His hands slid to her waist, framing it in a way both possessive and comforting. She liked it, she decided. It made her feel powerful and protected all at once, which was weird, but so like Dingo.

"Yeah," she said. They stared at each other for a long, unbroken moment, until the energy zipping through her limbs became too much and she knew she had to have him _now_. "Dingo?" she whispered.

"Hmm?" he hummed, eyes drifting half-closed.

"Where are those 'things', you said you had?"

"Oh." His eyes widened with a start and she almost giggled. "Uh, my room." He released her only to slide his hand down to hers and tug her toward his room. "C'mon," he said, leading her as if she didn't know perfectly well where his room was. She let it slide.

In the doorway he paused, looking back between her and the door to her room.

"Hey, Angela? Sometime, will you wear that flight suit for me again?" he asked.

So he was into that after all. Angela grinned.

"Maybe for round two."

She winked.

He chuckled.

The giggle that had been threatening on and off for some time now escaped.

His arms tangled around her waist again and they stumbled into his room, laughing, insecurities forgotten in the comfort that was them. There really wasn't anything to be nervous about, Angela realized. Being with Dingo here was just like being with Dingo in any other respect – natural and easy and fun.

She didn't get the flight suit for round two. Or three, or four.

She didn't need to.

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A/N: So, I watched Expelled From Paradise almost two weeks ago and I adored it, but there was a definite dearth of fanfiction, which bummed me. Until idea after idea started pouring into my head - which hasn't happened for an anime in ages. So, yeah, I'll be posting a series of one-shots as a single story based on one or two word "prompts" that I gave myself. Mostly Angela's POV, but also Dingo's from time to time. I don't know how long it will last, but I think I've got nearly a dozen partially written one-shots on my flash drive. I don't know how often I'll post either and I'll be leaving this marked complete since the stories are in the same "universe" but each could be read as a standalone. I don't know how many people are into this movie (or this pairing), but hopefully someone will get some enjoyment out of these.

Also, I totally made up ages on my own since I couldn't find any given. Dingo's full name, as used by Angela, is taken from the movie credits, so I'm assuming it's canon.


	2. Christmas

CHRISTMAS

"What is that?" Angela asked, her hands propped on her hips.

Dingo gave her an odd look. "What do you mean, 'what is that?' It's a Christmas tree."

It was certainly a tree. Or it used to be. Right now it looked more like a bizarre junkyard skeleton. Were those shell casings strung on the scraggly branches? And . . . soup cans?

"What?" she asked, voice made sharp by confusion, a habit she couldn't seem to shake no matter how hard she tried.

Dingo, long used to her defenses, ignored her tone. "Christmas tree," he repeated. When she only stared at him blankly he stood from where he'd been fiddling with his makeshift ornaments. He crossed his arms, one hip canting out slightly in a stance that should not be nearly as appealing as it was. "Come on, you've got to have Christmas in DEVA. Or is that another 'worthless subculture?'"

She blinked. From anyone else that might have been a barb, but this was _Dingo,_ and he sounded more concerned then upset, despite the frown now stretching his lips. He was like that, always trying to make up for what he felt she'd been deprived of growing up in a digital world.

She shook her head. "No. I know what Christmas is." Her arm raised to gesture at the sad thing in the corner of their living space. "I've just never seen a Christmas tree that looks like _that._ " Christmas trees in DEVA were perfect works of digital art. No one would waste valuable memory on anything less. Dingo's tree wasn't even an evergreen.

"It's the spirit that matters," he said.

Well, Dingo certainly had plenty of that. Still, Angela couldn't just concede the point.

"What does _that_ ," she pointed to the 'tree' with derision, "have to do with the spirit of Christmas?" For that matter, what did spirit have to do with Christmas at all? What was this, a pep rally?

He shook his head in mild disappointment and bent back to his work at the tree.

"Everything about Christmas is spirit, Ange. Peace on Earth, goodwill to man?" At her blank look he sighed. "Presents? Tell me they at least still do presents in DEVA."

"Well of course not," she snapped.

What would they give one another? Everything was pure data so they could create anything they wanted, and what a person could keep was all about how much memory they had available to them. No one wasted memory on something for someone else. Something they might not want or be able to sustain. Presents were pointless.

And was he saying they did give presents here? That seemed so . . . frivolous. Life on the surface was an endless obstacle course with survival the most prominent goal. Who had time or resources for presents?

"You didn't have a tree last year," she pointed out. "Or the year before." He never even mentioned Christmas before; she'd assumed it was just another day on the surface.

One large hand rose to rub the back of Dingo's neck and he looked at her somewhat sheepishly. "I didn't have a family last year or the year before."

She blinked at him. "Family?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Loved ones, at any rate. Having that again – I guess it made me nostalgic."

He thought of her as family? It was something of a foreign concept, having been raised on DEVA, but she'd seen something of what family meant in the nearly three years since her exile. Family was a concept beyond even lovers. To be family was to be of the same flesh and blood. To belong inextricably. It was a bond nothing could break because it wasn't something one chose, it was something that simply _was._ To know that he thought of her in that way . . .some part of her wanted to melt at that knowledge, but something from before stuck in her mind, preventing her from relaxing.

"You observed these traditions in childhood?"

"Yeah," he drawled slowly, expression becoming slightly guarded.

She looked around the room and realized more than just a tree had been added. Strings of shell casings and bottle lids were strung throughout the room, with sad examples of what passed for greenery in the desert interspersed. She envisioned a young Dingo enraptured by the way the light winked off the metal, helping his parents 'decorate.' And then she tried to imagine her Dingo stringing junk late at night while she slept.

She frowned. "This seems like a waste of resources."

"Waste?" He pouted. "It didn't cost much, Ange, I swear."

She refused to be swayed. "Perhaps not in funds, but certainly in time." Their lives were hard, dangerous, to deprive himself of sleep for this – it seemed ridiculous.

Dingo arched a brow. "So, let me get this straight – you're upset that I wasted my time stringing together old shell casings and punching holes in our garbage?"

It sounded silly when he said it like that.

"Yes. No. I don't know!" She couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about this whole situation that so unnerved her, and that made her frustrated.

Instead of becoming upset –because that was something Dingo almost never did– her partner smiled, a slow, lazy grin.

"Huh. Well, then I guess you're gonna be really upset that I bought you a present." He stood with a languid shrug. "Guess I'd better take it back."

Angela was nodding before she fully registered what he'd said, and then she stopped.

"Wait. You bought me a present?"

He smiled. Clearly he had no intention of actually taking whatever it was back.

Crap, now she had to get him something. She wondered if Carson still had that fuel exchanger Dingo had been looking at the other week, and then wondered if she could possibly afford it. She had a little saved away, but most of their income went toward shared expenses. And even if she did have the money, how was she going to get away from him long enough to buy it? For that matter, how did he get away from her long enough to buy her a gift? Where was he hiding it? Would it be something practical or sentimental? Dingo was strangely romantic. Should she maybe try to track down one of those music recordings he was so fond of instead of the fuel converter?

She didn't notice his approach until his hand dropped lightly onto her head. She looked up at him as best she could without tilting her head to find he was smiling.

"Stop it," he chided gently. "I can see you thinking. You don't have to worry about it – I wasn't expecting a present. "

She shoved at his hand, irritated. "Who said I was thinking about getting you a present?" She crossed her arms, lips twitching in irritation. "In fact, who says I don't already have one for you? Are you implying that I would forget to get you a Christmas present?" It escaped her recollection that she'd told him only a few minutes ago gift-giving had not been a part of the Christmas tradition on DEVA.

He gave her a knowing look and chuckled. His hand ruffled her hair slightly before smoothing it with gentle fingertips.

Damn annoying, insightful man. Weren't men supposed to be shallow and oblivious? She couldn't become involved with one of them, someone simple and easy. No. She had to fall in love with someone who knew her mind better than she did. Who cared enough to figure her out.

Suddenly uncomfortable, she huffed and turned to stomp away, but Dingo caught he from behind and pulled her into a loose embrace, his chest warm against her back. She shivered pleasantly as a smooth curl tickled her temple and his hot breath brushed her ear as he murmured, "You're all the Christmas present I need."

He kissed her ear and it was a struggle not to melt into a puddle at his feet. Gentle hands turned her and he tilted her chin gently, revealing sparkling, love filled eyes before his mouth claimed hers.

Yeah, Dingo was definitely romantic. But she was still gonna check with Carson about the fuel exchanger.

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A/N: So I should warn you now that these are in no particular order - timeline-wise. Obviously I posted this one now because, well, _Christmas._ The rest I shall post as fancy strikes me. This one is theoretically set after they've been together the better part of a year. I've got at least two more set very early in their romantic relationship, and a few ambiguous ones. We'll see what else comes to me.

Bye and Merry Christmas


	3. Partners

PARTNERS

Angela stared out the window of Dingo's trailer, bored. There wasn't much to do on the surface in terms of entertainment. When Dingo was around he played on his guitar, sang some. She was trying to learn to like it, in part because he enjoyed it so much, and in part because there was nothing else to do. She still didn't get what he meant by "feeling music in your bones," but every once in a while she thought the sounds stirred something in her – something not unpleasant. And Dingo's voice was nice. Comforting.

She sighed and looked around the small space for something useful to do. She tried to keep it tidy when Dingo was out. Dingo was a neat man by nature, though it seemed somewhat at odds with his lazy personality, and she didn't have any other way to contribute. She didn't know how to cook or make anything. She didn't know how to clean either, but, really, how hard could it be? Dingo had showed her the basics after she demanded to be allowed to help. That was two days after she'd been expelled from DEVA, and she'd thought she'd go mad if she didn't do _something_.

The trailer was already spotless, which made sense since she'd cleaned up after breakfast and hadn't done anything since.

She sighed and moved to the cupboards. In one of them Dingo had a meager collection of books. She'd read most of them already, but since there was nothing else to do . . .

"Hey, Angela!"

She nearly bumped her head on a shelf as Dingo threw open the door.

"Oh, there you are." He grinned at her like a moron.

"What?" she snapped. She immediately regretted it –he'd done a lot for her– but she refused to relinquish her scowl now.

His easy grin never faltered. "I've got a job I think is right up your alley. You wanna come with?"

xxxxxxxxxx

She should have known better. She really, really should have. He'd had that look in his eye – all mischief and madness, and she should have known it was going to be crazy.

Right up her alley? How was herding these, these _things_ even in her neighborhood? Hell, it wasn't even in her town. Maybe if she'd had her Arhan, but they'd sold that for scrap metal as soon as they'd returned from the ruins of Frontier Setter's base.

"Angela." Dingo waved at her from across the herd of horse-like beasts.

She said horse-like, but that was only because they resembled the basic body type of the ancient animal. These things were used for riding, sometimes, but they had wicked horns across their foreheads and down their noses, and the sharp teeth of a flesh-eater. God, had everything evolved to be carnivorous after the Nano Disaster?

Looking around at the barren desert she realized all the herbivores had probably died out. There wasn't a hint of natural vegetation on the whole damn planet.

"Angela," he jogged up beside her. "I think if we bribe them this might go quicker."

"Bribe them?" she echoed.

He grinned. "Yeah. You know, with a treat. You draw more flies with honey, right? And more hornsteed with meat."

When blinked at him. "And do you _have_ any meat?"

He shrugged. "Not at the moment, but I've got an idea about that."

"Idiot," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that?"

She shook her head.

"Anyway, I need you to stay here and hold down the fort for a few minutes, okay?"

Angela looked out at the teeming mass of beasts and wondered what, exactly, he thought she was going to do if they got out of hand.

He didn't wait for her to answer. "Okay. Great. I'll be back in a few."

He jogged away, headed toward the old, beat up jeep they'd bought with some of the money from selling her stolen Arhan. In another moment he'd driven away and she could do nothing but gape after him.

Seriously? He'd just _left_ her here?

She eyed the go cart they'd towed here with them. What would happen if she just drove away?

She dismissed the thought almost as she had it. No, she couldn't do that. Dingo's reputation was on the line here, she couldn't let him down. Besides, she'd wanted something to do, right?

She didn't know how long Dingo was gone. He'd bought her a watch, and she was wearing it, but she'd forgotten to check it when he left. It'd been at least twenty minutes though.

A rising cloud of dust signaled his approach at long last and the jeep skidded to a stop beside her. He hopped out, pulling one of his huge fifty gallon jugs with him. Usually they were empty, he used them to stir up sandworms, but now he appeared to be struggling with it, like it was full.

"Here," he panted a bit, "help me get this to the cart."

"Um, okay." She was surprised at how heavy the jug was. "What do you have in here?" she asked, already huffing for breath a little herself.

Dingo grinned at her. "A treat." They pushed the jug onto the back of the cart and Dingo climbed up after it. "You drive."

"Where are we going?" she asked as she dutifully climbed into the driver's seat.

"Head for the corral."

She kicked the vehicle into gear and began driving toward the large steel-girder corral their client had set up for the beasts.

"You might want to go faster," Dingo shouted over the noise of the engine and the wind.

"Why?"

Two things happened nearly simultaneously then: Dingo popped the lid off the metal storage container and the entire herd of hornsteed reared on their hind legs with a deafening roar. The smell hit her a moment later and Angela realized what he'd done. There was blood in the jug. She wasn't sure what desert animal he'd killed for it, probably the first one he'd found, but it was enough to drive the hornsteed into a feeding frenzy.

She slammed on the gas. "Damn it, Dingo! Are you insane?"

It was a silly question. She already knew Dingo was insane.

"What was that?"

"You're crazy!" she shouted.

Dingo laughed.

She could see the corral now and she really wished she'd asked more questions before this mad dash began, because she didn't know what she was supposed to do when they got there. Drive in? The last thing she wanted was to be trapped in a cage with a hundred hungry carnivores.

"Dingo?" she shouted back.

"Give it a few dozen meters," he said.

"And _then_ what?"

"Get ready to take a hard right, on my mark."

"What?"

"Mark!" he shouted, just as the welded seams that joined the girders became visible. Angela jerked hard; the cart skidded and titled over onto the left-side wheels, but they made the turn and kept going. She didn't even scrape along the corral rails. Behind her there was a heavy thump and the distinct sounds of metal rolling along sand. She looked back to see the herd of hornsteed trampling over one another in their haste to get to the blood now seeping into the ground of the corral. Dingo must have thrown the jug in as they made the turn, used it's momentum to increase his throwing distance.

Dingo climbed un into the front beside her. "Turn us around, we have to close the gate."

She did as he instructed automatically, almost numb with shock at what he'd done. A moment later his foot came down on hers over the gas, causing the cart to regain the speed she'd had to sacrifice to make the hairpin turn. He slammed on the brake as they reached the gate, lunging out the side of the cart to catch the gate and swing it closed. Their momentum threw Angela out into the sand and she was suddenly very grateful for the rough denim jeans covering her legs – they had been uncomfortable the first few days, but she could see Dingo's point now. Human skin was ridiculously fragile; even through the heavy fabric she could feel she'd earned a few new scrapes.

She pushed herself up, gingerly testing her limbs and joints, and was relieved they'd suffered no significant damage. She then turned her attention to Dingo and saw he had managed to bolt the gate shut and locked and was now loping toward her.

He offered her his hand. At least it still worked – he was lucky he hadn't wrenched his arms from his sockets pulling a stunt like that.

She took his hand. "What is wrong with you?" she demanded, tone scathing.

Dingo chuckled as he hauled her upright. "It worked didn't it?"

She shook her head. "You're gonna get us both killed," she muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Dingo propped his hands on his hips and looked back at the corral with satisfaction. "See, what'd I tell you? Easy as pie." He checked the lock one last time and then turned back to where she was still batting dirt off her butt. "Come on."

As he walked past her he let his hand fall on her head, ruffling her hair slightly. She hated it when he did that, like she was a little kid. At the same time, she kind of liked it. There was something about the weight of his hand, the warmth of it. She didn't quite know what that something was though.

"Let's go home," he said.

That froze her to the spot. Home? Was that what his trailer was to her now? When she'd been stranded here, on the surface in this physical body, three weeks ago –three weeks that felt like a lifetime already– she'd made the comment to him that if she was stuck here at least she had a reliable guy, but she'd been at least half teasing. Trying to get a reaction out of him. He hadn't protested, but . . . She couldn't really impose on him like that, could she? She was an adult, even if this body wasn't; she had to make her own way in the world.

"Hey, Angela." He had righted the go cart and now stood beside it expectantly. "You coming?"

Time enough to think about that later, she supposed as she hurried to catch up. Hurrying was easier now that she owned practical shoes instead of those ridiculous heels that were a part of her DEVA flight suit. Another item she was glad she'd let Dingo convince her to purchase, even if practicality hadn't been his sole –or even primary– concern at the time.

It was a short trip back to the Jeep and in another few minutes Dingo had the cart hitched to the tow rig and they were on their way home. They drove in silence for a long time, and Angela let her thoughts wander back to the dilemma that was the rest of her life. She hadn't really had time to make a plan before abandoning DEVA, or even rejecting Frontier Setter's offer to join him on his journey to the stars. Looking down at this planet she just hadn't been able to say goodbye. It had seemed adventure enough for her. But, honestly, she hadn't known enough about life on the surface to know what she was getting herself into.

Now she thought about the dull routine that had become her day to day life and knew she couldn't continue like that for much longer. So the question was: what _was_ she going to do with this new life of hers? She hadn't lost her DEVA skill set, but most of them were fairly useless here. Unless she wanted to be a bodyguard. She could do what Dingo did, she supposed, but somehow it didn't seem fair to set herself up as competition for the man who'd risked his life to save hers.

"Hey," Dingo said, casually interrupting her fretting. "How'd you like to be my partner? Officially, I mean. You're pretty useful when you're not complaining."

The last part was an obvious tease and she ignored it, focusing instead on his sudden and unexpected offer. How did he do that? It was like he could read her mind.

"We work well together, don't we? I've been thinking about getting a partner for a while now anyway. This would save me the trouble of placing an ad."

And now he'd given her the perfect excuse to say yes without seeming needy or vulnerable. Made it seem like she was doing him the favor. She saw right through him, but she was grateful for it. She had too much pride to ask for help; if he'd offered out of charity she would have turned him down on principle. It was unexpectedly kind, something she was beginning to learn to, well, _expect_ from Dingo. It did something funny to her insides when he did things like that.

As usual, when she felt vulnerable she put on a haughty air.

"Hmph." She twisted her head away, nose in the air, and sniffed. "I guess I could. You are pretty hopeless on your own."

Dingo, predictably, just smiled lazily. "Yeah, you're probably right. So, partners?"

He offered his hand and she shook it. An odd feeling of heaviness settled in her chest as their hands clasped. On the surface, a handshake was as good as a contract. She was committed to this life now.

"Great." Dingo grinned, like the idea of working with her really did make him happy.

The weight eased. As far as partners went, Dingo wasn't so bad. He really was a reliable guy, for all he was a bundle of paradox and contradictions. She would always be able to count on him. Besides, it wasn't like she knew anyone else in this world.

She studied his profile as they drove, contemplating what she knew of him: his moral code, his intelligence, his easy humor; the way he accommodated her, tried to make things easier for her, but didn't lie to her. She thought about his reckless lifestyle and his unorthodox "problem solving", which she was still pretty sure would someday get them both killed.

But until then, every day would be an adventure. And wasn't that what she'd decided she wanted?

She smiled to herself as she admitted, yes, it was.

Dingo glanced at her and did a double take. "What?" he asked. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Nothing."

"You say that an awful lot," he mused.

Her smile widened. "It's true an awful lot."

Dingo chuckled and adjusted the red baseball cap on his head. "Whatever you say, partner." He winked at her.

Angela relaxed back into her seat with a contented smile.

Yeah, this new life might not be so terrible after all.

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A/N: So . . . so far these have all been fairly long. I warn you there are some short ones in here too. Most are set after Dingo and Angela become a "couple", but a few (like this one) are earlier. Hope you enjoy.

reenas-as


	4. Cuddling

CUDDLING

Dingo was a cuddler.

She probably should have known. Really, he was a big softie all the way around so she should have realized he would want her as close as possible as they slept. And she did mean as close as possible. He literally seemed to fold himself around her, tucking her into the hollow formed at his center. She had to admit, it was a near-perfect fit, but that didn't mean it was always comfortable.

They would come home from a job out in the desert and she'd be hot and sweaty and tired, and it was all she could do to strip down to her underwear and plop on the bed. Dingo would do the same and they would lay there side by side until they fell asleep – or, more accurately, until Dingo fell asleep. Awake he understood her discomfort, even if he didn't share it, but, inevitably, when he fell asleep he would flop over and wrap himself around her - unconsciously seeking closeness. She wondered how he'd ever slept before they got together.

At first it had been smothering, but she was getting used to it. The desert days were hot, but the nights could be frigid; his warmth and the weight of his arms around her soothed her, and it was actually kind of nice to be that close to another person and not be doing anything.

Tonight, however, something was different. Dingo had been injured on their job and, after a thorough cleaning and patch up, had stiffly lay down on his back and fallen asleep. Angela stared at the gauze covering the right side of his ribs and sighed. It'd been hours since then and she couldn't fall asleep.

It wasn't worry. Dingo would be fine. He _was_ fine. It was only a surface wound, even if it was the size of her palm, and they'd gotten it clean right away, so there wasn't any danger of infection.

No, this was something simpler – and much more complex. She _missed_ him. Missed his touch.

Angela leaned up on her elbow and peered at the strip of mattress left bare on his other side. It was pretty narrow, but she thought she might just be able to make it. She had no other choice if she wanted to sleep really, because there was no way she was waking Dingo to move him.

Cautiously, she slid from between the sheets and crawled over him, careful not to touch his injury or jostle the bed. She tugged the sheets from the side of the bed and pulled them over herself. It really was a tight fit, she had to turn on her side to avoid hanging off the edge, but that'd been the whole point anyway.

Slowly, so as not to wake him, she wedged one arm under his, twining the fingers of their hands together, and then rested the other on his bare shoulder, her body stretched along his uninjured side. She laid her head against his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall as he breathed and the soft, steady thump of his heart beat. His face turned toward hers and he made a little hum of contentment in his sleep. Peace settled over her immediately and she relaxed into him with a satisfied sigh, eyes drifting closed, sleep already stealing thought away.

Angela was a cuddler, but only because Dingo made her that way. The man was damn infectious, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

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A/N: See, super short. I think this is the shortest one of the ten I've written so far . . .


	5. Morning After

MORNING AFTER

She woke up slowly; pleasantly languid in a way that was unfamiliar to her and aching in a way that was strangely comforting, uncertain what had roused her from the heavy depths of sleep. Her eyelids fluttered, torn between waking, to seek whatever had disturbed her slumber, and sinking back into the welcoming arms of slumber.

As she lay there, balancing on the precipice between sleep and waking, sensation began to intrude. The sheets against the skin of her stomach and little else. Gentle sunlight filtering in through the closed blinds. A pillow, soft against her cheek, its scent too earthy and masculine to be her own. Soft, warm, moist, pressure leisurely running the bare length of her spine.

This last, finally, pulled her to full alertness and she tensed beneath the gentle touches, the scent of the room registering at last.

 _Dingo_.

He continued to press almost lazy kisses up the line of her back, though he clearly knew she was awake now.

"Morning," he rumbled into the flesh between her shoulder blades, and she shivered.

"M-morning," she stammered, embarrassed. She didn't know where the sheets were, but they weren't covering any part of her. Memories of the night before came flooding into her mind and her skin burned in what she knew was a full blush. Last night had been amazing, everything she'd dreamed of and more, the perfect birthday celebration and hopefully –almost definitely, Dingo being who he was– so much more. She didn't regret it. Could never regret it. It had been mutual and natural and wonderful. But somehow here, in the light of day, some prudish part of herself she hadn't known existed insisted on rearing its head and she had to fight the urge to roll over and pull the bed linens around her.

Dingo chuckled, which only made it worse.

"What?" she snapped.

His finger traced down the line of her spine. "Did you know that when you blush it goes all the way down to your—"

"Dingo!" she yelped as the finger dipped down into the crack of her ass.

"Toes," he finished, all innocence, and he leaned up to peer around her hair and into her face, eyes twinkling merrily. "What did you think I was going to say?"

She flushed even brighter and buried her face in the pillow. "Idiot," she accused, though it lacked any true conviction.

He hummed against the nape of her neck, causing a pleasant shudder to ripple through her.

"So beautiful," he murmured, and the kisses resumed.

She wanted to melt. Wanted to turn and encourage his kisses elsewhere. To take him in hand and make him shudder with pleasure as she had. But she couldn't.

So damn embarrassing.

His hands swept her back and then grasped her waist lightly, and he somehow managed to hold his weight on his elbows and turn her at the same time. Her hands flew to cover her face in mortification as it suddenly occurred to her why she was so unsettled.

Last night had been dark, but now Dingo could see everything.

Angela had nothing to be embarrassed about, she knew. Her physical body was based on her actual genetic material, but the DEVA grown material construct had been created without an ounce of excess fat or inch of un-toned muscle. On top of that, she had been blessed with the extreme hourglass figure popular both on DEVA and on the surface. Several years of living on the surface had taken none of that from her, though her skin now had a healthy tan and had lost its baby softness.

She didn't know where this sudden insecurity came from, but she didn't like it, she decided. Unfortunately, she also couldn't seem to shake it.

Dingo gently pried her fingers from her face.

"Hey," he prompted softly. "Ange? What is it?"

She shook her head, angry at herself for this sudden childish behavior, but unable to stop it. She'd never been in this kind of situation before, this kind of relationship, and this stupid physical body and its myriad of unfamiliar involuntary physical reactions still got the better of her at the worst moments.

"Angela?"

He sounded truly concerned and she forced her eyes open a crack to meet his worried chocolate gaze.

"You okay?" he asked. His fingers ghosted over her figure as though searching for physical injury and she squirmed.

"I'm fine," she insisted. His gentle touch persisted and she caught one wrist in her hand before it could travel further south. The other escaped her and brushed a very sensitive location. "Dingo!" she practically yelped. "Stop it."

He froze. It was startling, his sudden, utter stillness. Carefully he retracted both hands, propping himself up to peer down at her.

"Angela, did I hurt you?" he asked, tone careful, expression strangely neutral.

Hurt her? What was he talking about?"

"You said it was this body's first time," he continued, concern creeping back across his features. "I guess I got a little carried away. You should have said something if—"

"Dingo," she cut him off. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, it's, you know, different for women. Ah, the uh, first time. And ours was more like a first half dozen. I guess I just assumed with our active lifestyle you wouldn't have to deal with the more negative side effects, but if you'd said something I would have reigned myself in."

She blinked at him, utterly mystified. "Side effects?" she echoed.

Dingo frowned down at her and then abruptly pulled up to kneel over her. His eyes searched the lower half of her form and the flush returned with a vengeance.

"What are you _doing_?" she gasped, hands searching blindly for the sheets.

"There isn't any blood," he said.

"Why would there be blood? Dingo! Would you stop that!" She batted his hands away as they fell to her hips and nudged them upwards. "Dingo! What. Are. You. Doing?" she demanded. She gave up on his hands and grasped his chin, forcing him to look at her face instead of her . . . well, _her_.

He seemed confused by her confusion at first, but then slow comprehension dawned on his face. "Angela. How much do they teach you in DEVA about, um, biology?"

She frowned. "You mean plants and animals and all that?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, sort of. But, uh, I was referring more specifically to, um, human reproductive systems."

The frown deepened. "Nothing. Why would they? We don't have physical bodies. Didn't," she corrected herself. Physical children were created –obviously that was necessary to gain new combinations of DNA– but that was strictly a lab science and had nothing to do with sex. Sex was simply a vehicle for pleasure and sensation in the digital world.

"I see." His expression cleared slightly. "So, just to clarify, you're not in any pain?"

Angela shook her head. He pinned her with the most serious look she'd ever seen from him. "Um, a little achy," she admitted. "But it's, uh, it's good." She turned her face away to hide her embarrassed flush. It _was_ good. Like the pleasant soreness that came after a good physical work out. Which she supposed what they'd done last night was, in a way.

"Mm hmm." Dingo's fingers lighted on her jaw, turning her back to face him. "Nothing more than that?"

She tried to push up on her elbows, only to be stopped by his hands on her shoulders. "Nothing else."

He studied her a moment. Then, seemingly satisfied, he lowered himself to give her a thorough kiss. His bare chest brushed hers and she gasped. He took full advantage, his tongue slipping in to caress hers. She shuddered, forgetting for a moment her embarrassment and the fact that they both had morning breath. When his hands began to drift once more, however, she froze.

He paused and pulled back to study her face again. His gaze narrowed and his head titled to one side, as though another angle would help him figure her out. She chewed her lip, certain her color was rising once more.

"Angela?" he asked, slowly, only this time there was something mischievous in that drawn out tone. Suddenly his gaze was all too knowing.

 _Please don't let him ask. Please don't let him ask._ She chanted in her mind.

"Are you _embarrassed_?"

Of course he asked.

Heat flooded her and she knew she was once again blushing, all the way down to her . . . toes. She pulled the pillow up over her face, unable to meet his laughing gaze.

"Come on, Angela," he coaxed, tone warm and full of amusement, which only made this worse. "What do you have to be embarrassed about? If anything I should be the one embarrassed. I'm nearly an old man."

That was a shameless lie. He was not old. He was barely thirty. And if he had been old he would have even less reason for embarrassment – he was gorgeous. She had taken the time to note that when he'd been straddling her.

He tugged lightly on the pillow, but she refused to relinquish it.

"And anyway, weren't you the one who seduced me?" he asked. "I thought you were an old hat at this?"

She pulled the pillow tighter against her.

He paused and then continued, his tone speculative. "Unless that was a lie." Another pause. "Angela? Were you a virgin? I mean, _you,_ not the body."

As if she was going to answer that _now_? Unfortunately not answering seemed to be just as telling.

"Oh Angela," he breathed, hands caressing her sides. The hint of wonder in his tone was almost enough to make her lower her defenses. Almost.

He shifted over her and a moment later a tender kiss was pressed to the side of her neck, just under her ear, making her gasp.

"Did you think I'd make fun of you?" he asked, voice a husky rasp against her ear. "God, Ange, I would never. I'm honored. Really I am."

She couldn't answer. She didn't know if the sudden lump in her throat was mortification or something more.

There was another long pause. Dingo shifted so that he was straddling her once more, but made no move to get off her.

A finger traced down her neck, across her collar bone, and around the swell of her breast causing her to release an undignified squeak.

Dingo chuckled. "I'd never have guessed, you know," he told her, tone teasing once more. "You're a natural."

"You're a moron," she shot back.

Somehow he understood her, even muffled by the bedding.

He pulled the pillow away and this time she let him.

He grinned down at her, love and laughter in his gaze. "But I'm your moron."

She smiled back, almost against her will. "Yes. You are."

They stared at each other a long, silent, moment, and then Dingo dipped his head to kiss her again. She sighed into the kiss, pressing up for more contact. He really was hers, wasn't he? And she was his. Every part of them belonged to the other: heart, mind, soul, and body. So there was nothing to be embarrassed about.

He left her mouth to trail kisses across her face and down her neck. "I love you," he whispered against the skin of her jaw.

The flush overtook her again, but this time she ignored it. Her hand tangled in the curls at his nape, guiding him upward to meet her steady gaze.

"I love you, Zarik Kajiwara." She favored him with a lopsided smile. "Even if you are an idiot."

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If you couldn't tell, this one is set immediately after FLIGHTSUIT. Not sure if I have to bump the rating up for this or not. I mean, they're naked and all, but there's nothing really explicit . . .

Thanks for reading,

reenas-as


	6. Making Up

MAKING UP

Angela slammed the plate into the sink, scrubbing with a ferocity she usually reserved for fire fights. It was a very good thing their dishes were tin, or she'd have a hell of a mess on her hands. Of course, with the mood she was in, she might not mind. Hell, a little pain might actually help clear her head.

God! He was such an _idiot_.

He never listened to her. No, Dingo was always right. And, okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. He actually listened to her a lot, even asked her opinion most of the time. And he did know a lot more than she did about life on the surface. But still. He never listened to her when it mattered.

Or. Well . . . he hadn't listened to her this once. And, actually, it hadn't turned out so bad, but that didn't mean she was happy about it. It would have been better her way. Definitely.

And if he'd just done things her way they wouldn't be arguing and she wouldn't be out here at ten at night washing dishes instead of back in their room doing . . . other things, and she wouldn't have avoided him all day, and she wouldn't be so damn miserable.

It was all Dingo's fault! Totally.

The familiar scrape and grind of the trailer door being opened caused Angela's form to stiffen involuntarily.

Where had he been all day anyway? She hadn't seen him since the argument this morning. What was the point of avoiding him if he wasn't even around to notice?

Unconsciously she tracked the sound of his footsteps and was surprised when they halted only a few steps in. She'd expected him to head for the bedroom addition. He'd ripped out one end of the trailer shortly after she'd moved in two and a half years ago to add on two bedrooms, leaving the bulk of the trailer a kitchen slash living area.

Dingo released a heavy sigh and then his footsteps resumed. Blame it on the metal walls of the trailer, but she didn't notice he was getting _closer_ until strong arms slid gently around her waist from behind.

Angela froze, a tin cup in one hand, a rag in the other. Okay. That was . . . unexpected. Last she'd checked he wasn't too happy with her either.

He brushed her hair over one shoulder with a delicate sweep and then began pressing slow, tender kisses along the length of her spine where it was exposed above the low back f her tanktop.

Her breath caught in her throat and everything in her wanted to give in, to melt back into him and the pleasant familiarity of his touch – of his love. But she was hurt and angry, and she wasn't going to let him have his way, so she forced herself to remain stiff.

She suppressed a shudder as he sucked on the skin at her nape.

"It's late. Come to bed," he murmured against her skin.

She shook her head, a difficult feat with his lips still brushing the skin on the back of her neck. "I'll sleep out here."

He sighed and the kisses stopped as his forehead rested between her shoulder blades. He was silent for so long she thought maybe he'd fallen asleep, but then he took a deep breath.

"Our relationship isn't a weapon, sweetheart."

She bristled. "I'm not a child—"

"Not sayin' you are," he interrupted gently, head raising as his mouth moved to hover beside her ear. "But I'm guessing relationships worked a little differently on DEVA." How could he sound so gentle when he was essentially scolding her?

Unless he wasn't scolding her at all.

She forced herself to remain calm, to listen, because he was probably right about that. Everything in DEVA seemed less real. If a relationship didn't work out, you ended it. No harm, no foul. There were a million other fish in the sea, and it wasn't as though anyone _needed_ a romantic partner. But here, people had to depend on one another. They needed each other to survive.

"This is a contract," Dingo continued, his hands brushing feather-light along the bare flesh of her exposed arms. "Just like our partnership. You're allowed to be mad at me, but you can't shut me out or walk away."

She squeezed her eyes shut tight. Damn it, he was right.

She deflated, back leaning into his warm chest. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

He allowed her to turn in his arms, then braced his hands on either side of her against the sink. His eyes searched hers and he leaned in to kiss her softly.

"That was wrong of me," she admitted when he ended the kiss.

He shook his head. "You don't have to agree with me, Ange. Not all the time. And God knows I'm wrong often enough, but don't shut down afterwards. We have to talk these things out."

"Okay," she agreed softly.

His lips brushed hers again. "I'm sorry too, you know. Forgive me?"

She nodded. "Forgive me?" It was embarrassing to ask, but if he could do it so could she.

His lips brushed her ear. "You don't ever have to ask."

Her fingers tightened on his lapels and he wrapped his arms around her in a comforting embrace. After a moment he pulled away with a grin.

"Look at that," he drawled. "We just survived our first fight as a couple."

She arched a brow, hip twitching to cant to one side, only he still had her caged between his body and the sink. "I don't see why you're so happy about that," she said.

He lifted a hand to capture a lock of her hair and slide it through his fingers. As he reached the end of the strands he captured them and raised them to his lips to brush a soft kiss there. It was strangely intimate. "Because we also just had our first reconciliation," he near-whispered.

"So?"

"So?" He let her hair fall and reached to tweak her nose lightly. "What do they teach you up there? Don't you know that the best part of having a lover's quarrel is the making up?"

"What?" Her nose scrunched. How did that make any sense?

He sighed, shaking his head as if deeply disappointed. His hand skimmed lightly from her nose to her ear and he let two fingers slide down along her jaw line until they reached her chin, then he used them to tilt her face to his and kiss her breathless.

"There is no sex better than make up sex," he told her. And then he lifted her to sit on the counter and smoothly slid between her spread knees, hands already working at her belt.

She grinned and pulled him in for another kiss. She was growing rather fond of these surface sayings of his – and she had a feeling she was going to like this one a lot.

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A/N: If you're wondering what the fight was about you might be focusing on the wrong aspect of this story (wink). Thanks for reading.

reenas-as


	7. Beard

BEARD

"Dingo, sit down," Angela demanded. Her husband eyed her warily, keeping the kitchen chair squarely between them. What did he think she was going to do? Tackle him?

"I changed my mind," he said, a nervous eye straying to the tool in her hand as though she were plotting to murder him with it – as if that was even possible.

Angela sighed. This standoff was getting beyond ridiculous. "Dingo, you agreed to this. Now: Sit. Down."

He shook his head. "I was under duress."

She arched a brow skeptically. As she recalled the activities that led to that particular discussion were far from unpleasant.

"Well, coercion, then," he half-conceded her point.

"Dingo, we're not removing a limb. It's just a shave."

"But I like my beard." He ran a hand along the shadowy scruff that lived in the space between his jawline and his neck. "It's manly and contributes to my rugged good looks."

She rolled her eyes. "It's scruffy. And it itches when you're kissing me."

"It doesn't even touch you when we're kissing!"

She propped a hand on one hip. "Not on the lips, idiot."

"Oh." He grinned weakly. "I thought you liked that."

"I do. But I might like it more _without_ the skin irritation after."

He pouted. God, the man was such a child. Were all men like this? She'd never been in a relationship before him, so she didn't know. Whether it was a trait common to all males, or a Dingo special, she'd had enough. It was time to pull out the big guns.

"Zarik Kajiwara, if you don't sit in that chair you're sleeping on the couch for a week."

He gaped at her. It was understandable, they hadn't slept apart in the entire time they'd been together. It was an agreement they'd made early on, that they would never use their relationship as a weapon or a bargaining chip.

"Angela." He sounded positively betrayed.

She held her ground. She wasn't being petty, this wasn't a cheap shot, it was a lesson in responsibility. "If you go back on your word there have to be consequences, Dingo. That's the way it works."

He shook his head. "Dirty pool, Ange, dirty pool."

She shrugged.

Their gazes met and held, weighing one another's determination. At length, Dingo's shoulders slumped.

"It's really that important to you?" he asked.

"A promise is a promise."

"I have to stop talking during sex," he muttered, but he moved around to take a seat on the chair.

Angela smiled at him smugly as she wrapped a towel around his shoulder and turned on the electric razor. "Yeah, good luck with that."

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Dingo stared mournfully into the mirror in Angela's hand. His own hand caressed the newly bared strip of skin in the shadow beneath his jawline.

"It looks so . . . naked," he said.

Angela titled her head, studying his face critically. "I like it," she said firmly. It was different, but not bad, and she couldn't wait to feel its smoothness against her bare skin.

Dingo crossed his arms petulantly across his chest. "I don't. I look like a teenager."

She rolled her eyes. "It'll grow back, you big baby."

"Well, yeah. But it won't be the same."

Seriously? That didn't even deserve a response. She turned to tuck the mirror into its home in the junk drawer and then sauntered back to him. She prodded him to move his arms so she could sit in his lap; he cooperated reluctantly.

"You know, it's not all bad," she said, smoothing her hand up his chest. "There are benefits to being beardless."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" he challenged.

With a single, smooth motion, she twisted, throwing her left leg over his other side to straddle him. That shut him up rather quickly.

"Well, for starters," she leaned in close, dropping her voice to a low purr, "if you had a beard you wouldn't be able to feel this." She pressed soft kisses along his jaw line and he shivered, hands rising, fingers blindly searching out the bare skin of her hips between her low cut jeans and her tank top.

When she added her tongue to the sweet, slow torture, he groaned, fingers clenching almost convulsively.

She hummed a laugh against his throat.

He pried one eye open to favor her with a look of adoration and a lopsided smile. When he spoke his voice was a low, husky rasp that sent shivers of pleasure up her spine.

"I think I can live without the beard."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Another super-short one. Personally, I like Dingo's scruff, so he'll be growing it back. I've organized a posting schedule (at least as far as order I'll be posting the one-shots I've already written goes) and the next few are longer again. Hope you enjoyed your Dingo/Angela fluff fix!

reenas-as


	8. Marraige (Honeymoon)

MARRIAGE (HONEYMOON)

"Do people still get married in DEVA?" Dingo asked, casual.

Angela paused briefly before resuming tinkering with the engine of the Jeep. "No. Why would they?" She was familiar with the arcane concept. Individuals joining in family units to provide support and safety against the struggles of every day living, and to provide a stable environment for the continuation of the species. Such things were unnecessary in a digital world.

"Huh." Noise from the underside of the vehicle ceased as Dingo paused briefly. She could picture the contemplative tilt of his head as he considered this. "Yeah." he said, as if agreeing. "I guess I get that."

They continued their work in comfortable silence for several minutes before something occurred to her that made her heart quicken slightly. He had a reason to ask, right?

"Do people get married here?" she asked, as nonchalant as she was able against the ridiculous racing of her pulse. Even after five years in this body she still found it difficult to control at times.

He slid out from under the Jeep, hand already rubbing the back of his neck. "Eh, not as such, no. I mean, there's no centralized government or church to make it official, you know?"

"Oh." Why did that disappoint her?

He rose fluidly to his feet and reached for a rag to wipe his hands, gaze focused on the simple task with unnecessary intensity. "People have private ceremonies, sometimes, but it's really more about personal commitment down here."

"A contract," she said. She remembered him describing their relationship that way once, early on.

He nodded, gaze still averted.

A suspicion stole over her and she laid down her tools to turn her full focus on him. "Dingo? Do you – do you consider me your wife?"

He flushed. "Well, I'm not planning to leave you if that's what you're asking," he said gruffly.

She blinked. "I didn't think you were."

His gaze met hers then, a dichotomy of ferocity and tenderness. "I meant ever, Ange."

"Oh." They'd never talked about it, but she'd never even considered a time when they might not be together. "Me too. Or, uh, me neither?"

The unusual intensity in his eyes faded and he smiled at her. She smiled back and they stood a moment, just smiling at one another, before, as if by some unspoken signal, they both returned to work. This time they were nearly shoulder to shoulder as they made adjustments to the engine together. It was comfortable, and them, but something prevented her from fully relaxing. The thought that he'd brought the subject up for a reason wouldn't leave her. She remembered the rarely seen flush, the averting of his eyes.

Yeah. This meant something to Dingo.

"What kinds of private ceremonies?" she asked casually.

"What?"

She didn't look at him. "You said people sometimes have private ceremonies. What kind?" In the old days, before the Nano Disaster, before DEVA, there had been elaborate parties. White dresses. Beautiful flowers. She couldn't imagine anyone on the surface having the resources for all of that, or even a portion of it, now.

"Oh. Uh. Well, you know. Private." He shrugged. "I've never actually been to one. They're . . . private."

She stopped and shifted to rest a hip against the vehicle, facing him. "Did your parents have one?"

"I don't know," he said, voice muffled as he was still leaning over the engine. "If they did it was before I was born."

He was too casual about this. And he wasn't looking at her. Never a good sign.

She laid her hand on his arm and he froze and then slowly rose and turned to face her.

"Dingo?" she asked, completely serious now. "Do you want to get married?"

He didn't blush, but his face went carefully blank. "It's not really necessary."

"That's not what I asked." She wrapped her arms around his neck, meeting his gaze solemnly. He sighed and dropped his forehead to hers, arms moving to circle her waist.

"All I want is you," he breathed, "forever."

He was such an incurable romantic, and she loved him for it.

"Yes." She titled her head up to brush a soft, chaste kiss against his lips.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'll marry you. What do we do?"

He blinked down at her, shocked, but it was a happy shock.

"Dingo?" she prompted.

He drew in a shuddering breath. "Oh. Uh, right. Well . . ." His hand was back at his neck, or it tried to be, but hers were in the way. When he moved to drop it she snagged it with one of her own, gently entwining their fingers.

"Uh, generally there are vows," he said.

"Vows?"

"We promise never to leave each other," he expounded.

"Done," she promised.

"And, uh, to honor and love and cherish one another."

She smiled softly, her free hand smoothing the hair at his nape. "Also done."

"In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, better or worse."

Well, they'd certainly done all of that. Within the first 48 hours of their acquaintance.

"Done," she said softly. "Anything else?"

He swallowed thickly. "I, uh, think that about covers it."

"Huh," she tilted her head, thoughtful, "that was easier than I expected."

He gaped at her and then chuckled. "Yeah." His free hand slipped from her waist to tug on her hair. He kissed her.

"What was that for?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Supposed to kiss the bride, right?"

She smiled and kissed him back. "What about the groom?"

"It's not traditional, but don't let that stop you." He freed his fingers from hers to frame her face with both hands. "I love you, Angela Balzac."

"I love you, Zarik Kajiwara."

They shared another silly grin. She studied him, wondering how such a simple thing could make him so happy. How it could make her happy when she hadn't even been raised in this world. It wasn't like anything had really changed. They'd made those promises long ago in their hearts, even if they rarely said the words.

"Dingo," she said slowly. He looked down at her in question and she pulled one of his hands back to tangle with her own between them, staring down at them and thinking how well the appendages mirrored their lives. "I think maybe we've been married all along," she murmured.

He smiled, looking down at their joined hands as well. "You know, I think you might be right." He looked up at her through his lashes, eyes sparkling, mischievous. "Let's honeymoon anyway."

"Honeymoon?" It came out an undignified squeak, mostly because at that moment she found herself slung over his shoulder, his hand cupping her ass.

"Mmm," he hummed, and she could hear the grin. "That one's really more of a show and tell."

"Uh, okay . . ."

He pressed a kiss to the back of her thigh and carried her to their room, where he deposited her gently on the bed and crawled over her.

"See, it starts with us and this bed, and not leaving it for a long, long time."

Even after all this time she still flushed at the heat of his gaze. She pushed through it. "How is that different from a typical Saturday night?"

His eyes flared with passion.

"I said a long time, Ange," he rumbled. "I was thinking a few days, at least."

"Oh," she breathed, the thought of _days_ like this overwhelming, but not at all unpleasant. "Work?" she asked weakly.

"It'll keep. We won't go broke in a week, Angela."

She nodded and closed her eyes as he kissed her, only to open them a moment later with a squeak. She pushed lightly at his chest and he backed away to give her a fraction of space.

"Did you say a week?" she asked, wide eyed.

Dingo grinned, unrepentant and sexy as hell. "At least," he confirmed with a nod.

And then his mouth met hers once more and his hands moved to the button on her jeans and she thought that sounded like a very good idea.

She wondered if a honeymoon was something they could do more than once.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: So, as you might have noticed, once I got started these things kind of started prompting themselves. Like, in the last one Angela called Dingo her Husband, so in this one you got to find out how that happened. But I'm not necessarily posting in the order I wrote them, so it's kind of hard to follow the thread of my thoughts. I'm evil like that (or maybe I'm protecting you - my mind can be a scary place . . . )

Thanks for reading,

reenas-as


	9. Reading

READING/BOOKS

When Dingo had told her, a little more than halfway through their first adventure together, that he'd learned about rocket fuel through reading, she'd been fairly certain he was mostly being an ass. When he'd followed up on that comment with the mocking statement about having books on the surface, she'd been almost positive. But now, having spent several years with him, she had to admit it had most likely been the truth.

Her husband loved books.

He had a cabinet at home with a small, but varied, collection, and he took every opportunity he could to add to it. She couldn't count the number of times she'd found him up on the roof or out in the desert reading. If someone even mentioned the word "book" his eyes lit up like a missile explosion.

Dingo loved books. It didn't matter the subject, or whether they were factual or fictional. Dingo devoured novels and scientific journals with equal fervor. It was adorable. She'd even told him so. In typical Dingo fashion, he hadn't been embarrassed. No. Dingo had grinned, laid his book aside with deliberate calm, and asked just how adorable, his eyes making a lingering circuit of her form that told her exactly where he was headed with the question.

Of course she'd indulged him. Very few things in life could ever cause her to turn down a tumble in the sheets with the man she loved. And smart guys were sexy.

That might have been the first time they role played. Or maybe the second. The timeline got a little fuzzy when it came to things like that.

But she digressed.

Dingo loved books. So it didn't surprise her at all when the rumor of a buried library several days' drive away had him chomping at the bit for a new adventure. There was no use reminding him that it wasn't practical, or that it wouldn't pay. Dingo was determined to find those books. They had a little money saved away, and it wasn't as though he asked for much in life, really. How could Angela say no?

Still, after more than a week of bouncing around in the cab of the big truck, taking turns sleeping on the cot in the back, she was kind of wishing she'd let him go on this particular adventure alone. It didn't help matters that every time they reached the supposed end of their journey someone pointed them to yet another dusty little town. She was beginning to think this whole thing was a wild goose chase.

Dingo, of course, was loving the whole thing. Each extension of the journey was just another layer of mystery to him, adding to his anticipation. She hoped he wasn't disappointed in the end. Though Dingo rarely seemed disappointed with anything, so maybe she was fretting for nothing.

"Hey, I think we're here," Dingo called back from the cab.

Angela blinked at the ceiling a few times and then forced herself out of the tiny bed. Time to learn the next leg of the wild goose chase.

"Good morning, sleepy head." Dingo smiled at her, then he looked back out the windshield, one hand raised to point at a cluster of dingy buildings still a little ways off. "It's that settlement right up there."

Angela bent to brush a kiss across his cheek before settling into the passenger seat to work out the tangles in her long hair. She should really think about cutting it; long hair was impractical given their lifestyle and their line of work. She didn't care one way or another, but Dingo liked it long, she knew, which was why she'd never followed through on the idea. Not that she thought he'd _complain_ if she did cut it.

"You ready?" he asked, putting the truck in park on the outskirts of the settlement. He didn't wait for an answer as he practically bounced out of his seat. God, he was like a little kid sometimes, she thought with fond exasperation. It was nice to see him so excited though, even if she was ready for the end of this fieldtrip.

The door opened before she reached the handle and Dingo lifted her out onto the sand. Even after all this time it still surprised her how ridiculously tall he was. And how well they fit together despite that. He caught her hand and led her through the sand toward the town.

"What's your hurry?" she asked, though she knew if he wanted to he could move much faster. Hell, a normal walking pace for him was nearly a jog for her shorter legs, so he wasn't even doing that.

He grinned down at her. "We're close. I can feel it."

She rolled her eyes. He'd said that at their last two stops. Personally, she wasn't holding out much hope.

It was early in the day and few of the meagre collection of rag tag stores were open yet. Dingo found one where the owner was setting up for the day and introduced himself. Once the requisite small talk was over, he casually inquired about the library.

"So, I heard there was a new find out this way," Dingo said. "An archeological site."

The shopkeep grunted, one mammoth arm shooting outward, and Angela braced herself for another roadtrip through the desert. "You'll be wanting to speak with Marlo about that. Brought in quite a haul, as I understand it. Not that anyone out here has much use for it."

"Hey, what do you know." Dingo looked from the shopkeep to Angela and back with an easy smile, never betraying how important the information was to him. "I was beginning to think it was an urban legend."

"Nope. Marlo. Fifth shop on the left."

Angela looked down the line of the shopkeep's arm. The cluster of buildings in that direction seemed even more derelict than the rest of the outpost. Goose chase. Almost definitely.

"Thanks. Maybe I'll check it out." Dingo tipped his hat to the man and offered his arm to Angela. When she took it the muscle was practically vibrating – despite his collected exterior, Dingo was thrilled.

"You want me to do the talking?" she asked. Something she'd learned in DEVA's security force was that it never paid to be too eager. That was something Dingo knew as well.

He shook his head. "I'm cool."

She studied him critically. She supposed to someone who didn't know him like she did he would indeed appear "cool." She conceded with a nod.

They had to wait a few more minutes for Marlo to open shop. Dingo spent the time chatting amiably with the other vendors in the area as they opened. It was amazing to watch him work, the way he casually encouraged people to open up and tell him exactly what he needed to know without them ever realizing he was on a fishing expedition. Even after seeing him do it thousands of times she was still impressed every time. This was why DEVA had kept him on despite his "rebellious nature." They'd even had the nerve to offer him work after the Frontier Setter incident. Of course, she'd been careful to leave his involvement out of her report, so it was possible they didn't know he'd assisted in the demolishment of half their surface task force.

Dingo nudged her gently with his elbow. "He's here."

The door to the little shop swung open revealing that "he" was actually a little old woman with eyes too big for her face. Dingo smiled down at her and Angela knew it was a lost cause. It didn't matter if Marlo'd found a library or not, they'd be leaving this hole in the wall with something one way or another.

The thing about Dingo was that he got along with everyone, but especially women. He could get anything out of a woman, just by turning up the charm. By the same token, women could get a lot out of him. Not that Dingo was in any way unfaithful –he had eyes for no one but Angela, and if a woman hinted she wanted that sort of thing he immediately turned cold– but so long as a woman didn't expect _that,_ he'd bend over backwards to help her out.

As it turned out, Marlo did have books, though nowhere near the treasure trove the initial rumor had implied. That was probably a good thing, Angela thought, because Dingo had bartered almost their entire savings _and_ the spare radiator for the little chest they'd come away with. There were maybe a dozen books in the chest, but Dingo was grinning like they'd hit the mother lode.

Idiot.

"Angela, drive first shift will you?" he asked with puppy-dog eyes. "I want to see what we've got."

She rolled her eyes at his eagerness, but technically it was her shift anyway so she didn't complain. She left the music off so that he could concentrate and they drove a long time with no sound except the flutter and slide of turning pages.

"You should pace yourself," she warned as he began to thumb through the second book only an hour or so later. "You'll read through them all in the first two days."

He shrugged. "I can read them again," he said.

Honestly. The man had no self-control when it came to reading. But, really, it was adorable. Besides, if she was calculating this correctly, the direct route home would take them a little over two days. If he read through all the books in that time she wouldn't have any competition for his attention when they got home. Ten days without sharing a bed was more than enough.

"On second thought," she said, "read as fast as you like."

His gaze flitted to hers in question and she smirked, but let him draw his own conclusions. After a moment his brows winged upwards.

"Ahh." He sat up abruptly and began rooting through the chest.

"What are you doing?" she asked, struggling to keep an eye on him and on the desert in front of them.

"I'm checking to see if there's any smut in here."

"Smut?" she echoed. She tried to remember if she'd ever heard that term before and came up blank. It was hard to believe after all these years there was still surface slang to learn.

"Yeah. You know, sex."

What? "You're looking for porn?" Against her will she felt her cheeks darken.

Dingo chuckled. "They don't keep porn in libraries, Ange. This would be tasteful." He paused thoughtfully. "Mostly," he amended.

Her brain was stuck on the fact that he was looking for dirty books. "What are you going to do if you find it?"

He looked up to wag his eyebrows at her. "Save it for last. To get us in the mood."

" _Us_?"

He snorted. "Well, yeah. I'm gonna read it out loud. When we're almost home. It'll be fun. And by the time we finish we'll be ready to, well, _finish._ "

Angela choked on nothing at all. Oh God. He couldn't be serious, could he? Unbidden, images of him whispering dirty passages into her ear and against her skin flooded her mind's eye and she shuddered. God, just the thought of his voice . . . She'd probably never told him, but Dingo's voice _did things to her_. Even without the dirty talk.

"You alright, Ange? You're looking a little red-faced there."

She turned wide eyes to him and immediately they narrowed of their own will.

He was _laughing_ at her. Not out loud, of course, but his eyes were sparkling with mischief, and suddenly she realized that he was teasing her.

She smacked his arm.

"Oi, Angela, two hands on the wheel," he protested as he rubbed the offended appendage.

"You jerk! There aren't any dirty books in there, are there?"

"Well, sure. They're all pretty dirty. But that's to be expected when they've been buried in the desert for—"

"Stop. You know what I mean. There aren't any book about . . . _that_ in there."

" _That_ , Angela? What are we, ten?"

"Dingo!"

He smiled. "Disappointed, Angela? Maybe you were looking forward to hearing me read to you about _that_."

"You are such an idiot, Zarik Kajiwara!"

Dingo caught her hand as it flailed out for another smack and pressed a kiss to the back of her palm.

"You should have know right from the beginning," he said, tone entirely too reasonable for this conversation.

"That you're an idiot? I did know that, but thank you for reminding me."

He shook his head. "That I was just teasing. It's not like we need anything to get us in the mood."

She sniffed. "We will now. I'm not sure two days is long enough for me to forgive you."

Dingo, being Dingo, was not at all put off by her sour mood.

"Liar," he chided with gentle humor. "I give it two minutes."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"Well," he drawled, "I've got this whole pile of books to read on the way home."

As if that had anything to do with anything? If he thought being quiet would get him back in her good graces he had another thing coming.

"And?" she asked imperiously.

"And, as I recall, a certain someone finds my infatuation with books _adorable_. Maybe more than adorable."

Angela stared at him, struggling to find an appropriate retort, because, damn it he was right. Two days watching him read out of the corner of her eye and she'd so be over this and ready for some very physical relief.

At length she looked back out into the desert. "Who needs mood anyway," she grumbled.

Dingo chuckled. "You'll be thinking about it," he sing-songed.

Angela scowled.

For the next two days Dingo read when he wasn't driving, stopping only to take a cat nap here and there. And, yes, Angela thought about it. A lot. It wasn't fair. How could anyone make the simple task of reading so sexy? She might have almost, kind of, hated him for it if she didn't love him so damn much.

They were two steps in the door of their home when she jumped him. Dingo had been reading as he walked, something science looking and probably super stuffy. She expected him to drop the book when she latched onto him, lips seeking his ravenously, but the anticipated thump of tome hitting floor never came.

"Dingo," she mumbled around enthusiastic kisses. "Why are you still hanging on to that book? I need you to _touch me_."

Dingo chuckled, his free hand splaying across the bare skin of her back where her shirt had ridden up. "I _am_ touching you. The book is for later."

"Later?" Had there been smut in that chest after all? Some part of her was a tiny bit excited by the thought. She glanced down surreptitiously, but, no, it was definitely some sort of science textbook.

"Mmm," he hummed against her collarbone. "It's not about what you read, Angela, it's about how you read it." His voice dropped to a husky murmur that scraped her nerves in just the right way and she shuddered against him.

Damn it. Apparently she didn't have to tell him what his voice did to her, he'd figured it out all on his own. Damn perceptive man. She buried her face in his shoulder, mortified, and he brought his free hand up to stroke her hair.

"But that's for later. Right now, let me show you how much I've missed you?"

The next instant her legs were locked around his hips and he was supporting her with one hand as he moved them to the bedroom. True to his word he tossed the book onto the table beside the bed and proceeded to shower her with affection. It wasn't until many minutes later, in the post sex bliss, that he lazily pulled the book off the table and opened to a page at random.

She tried to push up on one elbow to look at him, but she was too tired, so instead she turned on her side. "You're really going to read to me from a _textbook_?" she asked.

"Tsk, tsk. Don't judge a book by its cover." The way he smiled told her this was another surface saying she was unfamiliar with. "Relax and listen." He reached out and urged her eyelids closed with gentle fingertips, and then he began to read.

It really was a science textbook, she realized very quickly, filled with unfamiliar academic jargon, probably something on the university level, from back when there had been such things. Her brain soon gave up trying to identify the words and instead focused on the rise and fall of his voice.

It was then that she discovered he was absolutely right. It didn't matter what he was reading so long as he continued in that sultry mix of sex and song. His voice felt like fingers caressing her skin and she shuddered as she came to a realization.

Watching Dingo read was adorable. Sexy.

 _Listening_ to him read was down right orgasmic.


	10. Flight Suit II - Roleplay

FLIGHTSUIT II – ROLEPLAY

It was late when Angela got home, thanks to the dual curses of living outside of town and stores stocked solely by scavengers. It had taken far longer than a girl would think to scrounge up two measly cups of flour and three eggs. But they were on Dingo's list, so she'd stayed at it until she found them. She couldn't imagine what he needed them for – pretty much the only thing he made with eggs and flour was the cake he'd made for her birthday the last two years, but they'd celebrated two days ago so it couldn't be that. Maybe he had a craving for pancakes again?

The parts they'd needed for the Jeep and ATV had been easier to find, thankfully. Still, she'd had to remind herself several times that she'd volunteered to do the shopping while Dingo stayed behind to give the house a thorough cleaning.

"Dingo?" she called quietly. There was no answer, but she'd seen a light over in the garage, so he was probably there.

She headed into the kitchen and smiled when she saw the plate he'd left out for her. She shelved their meager groceries and scarfed down her meal in only a few minutes – since there was no one watching and she hadn't eaten in hours. Dingo had taken care of his dishes and whatever he'd used to cook so she washed her plate and fork and put them away before heading into the bedroom to change into her pajamas.

It was funny the things that she'd had to get used to living in the physical world. She'd never had to sleep on DEVA, so she'd never owned pajamas before. Not that what she wore to bed now could strictly be classified as pajamas, considering it was actually just one of Dingo's old shirt. It was ridiculously large on her small frame, but the way Dingo's eyes darkened every time he saw her in it made her warm inside.

Dingo had certainly had a busy day, she realized as she made her way to the bedroom. The trailer and its various additions were spotless. There were a few new odds and ends decorating the walls too, so he must have finally straightened the junk they'd stored in her old room. She was pretty sure that piece beside their doorframe was part of her old Arhan.

And speaking of things that used to be hers . . . was that her DEVA issue flightsuit laid out on the bed? She wandered over to finger the slick material. She hadn't seen this since her last birthday when she'd tried to use it to seduce Dingo. It'd worked, sort of. Or, she'd gotten what she wanted, at least, but the flightsuit hadn't really been necessary. Turned out Dingo liked her in anything she wore.

Which begged the question: what was it doing in their bedroom?

A throat cleared softly behind her and she whirled to find Dingo leaning casually on the doorframe. She arched a brow in question. He smiled and loped forward.

"So, I know we're a little past round two, but I was cleaning out your old room and I found this and I thought . . . maybe you'd put it on for me?" He lifted his brows hopefully.

Angela looked from him to her flight suit and shrugged. "Sure. Why not?" Huh, guess he had liked the flightsuit after all.

Dingo just grinned.

She shook her head and turned to pull her shirt over her head, but then paused with her hands on the hem to look back over her shoulder at him. "Are you staying for this part?" she asked.

Now it was his turn to wing one brow upward inquisitively. "Should I not?"

She shrugged again. "I don't mind. But it might be more fun if you don't." A world of possibilities ran through her mind in that instant. They'd never really bothered with costumes or props or games, but it could be kind of fun. Guys were into that kind of thing, right?

"Yeah?" he asked, tone taking on a hint of pleased curiosity.

"It might be," she repeated. And then she winked.

Dingo vacated the doorway in favor of the living room. "I'll be on the couch when you're ready," he called back to her.

She took her time getting changed, both to build the anticipation and because she wasn't sure how far, exactly, he was planning to take this. In the end she decided it was probably best just to ask him straight out.

"So, is this just costume fetish, or were you thinking of something more involved?" she asked, sashaying toward him with swaying hips before straddling him. He swallowed as her breasts bounced in front of his face.

"Uh, involved?" he blinked at her like she'd spoken in a foreign language and then swallowed hard. "You mean, like, Security Officer Balzac and fugitive Kajiwara? That kind of involved?"

She flipped her hair back over her shoulders. "If you want."

His eyes traced down her form. "I, uh, sure. Whatever. I hadn't really thought that far ahead."

That was so like Dingo. He'd probably stuck the thing out on a whim.

"Okay, then." She reached behind her, twisting her hair and securing it to the back of her head.

"What are you doing?" he asked, eyes following her movements.

"You can't expect me to detain the prisoner with my hair hanging around everywhere. That would be reckless." She leaned in close to breath against the warm skin of his neck. "Too much leverage."

"Oh, right."

She paused, pulling back to study him. He wasn't as gung ho about this as she had expected. Maybe he really hadn't had any ulterior motives in pulling out the suit. She braced one hand lightly against his chest, drawing his attention up to her face. "Dingo, if you're not into this, we don't have to."

He shook his head. "No. It's not that. It's just – are you bored?"

She blinked at him. "What?"

"Bored. With us. Or, well, our sex life. Are you bored?"

"Are you?"

"No, of course not," he denied firmly. "Why would you ask?"

She tugged at the white spandex hugging her torso. "You're the one who pulled out the flight suit."

He looked back toward the kitchen table and then met her eyes again. "Well, yeah. Because, I don't know, I was trying to be . . . nostalgic. Romantic? Maybe. Because you were wearing it the day that . . ." he trailed off and looked away. And suddenly she got it.

"Oh, oh. Dingo, I'm sorry." She tried to pull back, to get off his lap, but his hands suddenly gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place.

"Hey, where are you going?" he asked.

Heat rose in her face. "I completely forgot. And you were trying to be sweet and romantic and I turned it into some raunchy game."

"Angela— hold still will you," he commanded as she squirmed. "I'm not upset. And it's not raunchy. There's nothing wrong with a little role-play. I just didn't want you to think that's what this was about. But if you want to it's fine. I'm fine."

She stared down at his chest.

"Angela?" he asked, hesitant now.

"Let go," she said softly.

Immediately he released her. She slid off his lap and held out her hand. He took it, eyeing her with a touch of trepidation. She led him toward the bedroom.

"Angela? What are we doing?"

She released her hair from its prison. "Celebrating our anniversary. In bed. Without the script."

"Are you sure? I meant what I said. I'm okay with a little—"

She cut him off with a kiss. When she pulled back she held his face close to hers with a hand at the base of his skull. "You are many things, Zarik Kajiwara, but you are _never_ boring," she promised and kissed him again. This time when it ended she released him fully, pushing at his chest a little to get him to relinquish his hold on her waist. His eyes followed her, confused, and she winked at him as she sank down onto the bed. "So, why don't you help me out of this flight suit?" she invited. "It's a little too tight for my liking."

Catching on, he grinned as he stalked toward her. His head tilted to one side to study her as he stopped beside the bed. "Really? I think it's just tight enough."

She made a show of rolling her eyes. "Men," she scoffed.

His grin widened. "Aren't we just the worst?"

"Mm hmm," she hummed an agreement, reaching her arm up to beckon him down. He came willingly. "I kind of like it," she whispered against his lips.

He kissed her, wide hands sliding to support her back with strong, splayed fingers. Artist's hands, she'd often thought, and he certainly played her like a master instrumentalist. When she said he was never boring, it was the honest truth. She couldn't get enough of him – in their bed, in her life. His tongue stroked hers, firm and knowing, making her ache in all the right places and she gasped into his mouth. Yeah, definitely not boring. Still, now that the role play idea was stuck in her head . . .well, he _had_ said he wouldn't mind. . .

When they came up for air she gasped, "Maybe role play for round two?"

He grinned down at her. "I'm holding you to that this time."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXA/N: Did you think I'd disappeared? Next couple are going to be Dingo POV, and then I think some split Dingo/Angela POV. Also, no judgement or opinion on roleplay in real life. I'm in my thirties and have only been kissed once in my life, so it's not something I spend much time thinking about. Thanks for -as


	11. When

WHEN

Dingo couldn't have said when exactly it was he fell in love with Angela Balzac, but he figured it was pretty early on.

At first he tried to treat her like a father figure or a big brother figure would, because of her physical age. But it never quite felt right. Maybe because in the back of his mind there was always the knowledge that inside that teenaged body was a full grown woman. Sometimes she could act as childish as she looked, but then she would say something witty or sharply insightful or wise or compassionate and he would be reminded all over again that she was not a child. He'd probably already been fighting feelings for her then. Still, for propriety's sake he had tried. If nothing else they were two single people of the opposite sex working and living together, and he didn't want to make things awkward.

He knew he hadn't _known_ he was in love with her until much later. Maybe a year? They'd been in the middle of a job –a reckless job, because there wasn't any other kind in their line of work– when it hit him. It wasn't a near-miss or anything so dramatic as that. Just a normal wrap-up: dirty, clothes disheveled, Angela scolding him for being an _idiot_ , as always. He'd been listening to her rant, watching her, a little amused as usual, and it had hit him. He loved this. He loved her. He couldn't imagine being without this simple interaction every day for the rest of his life. He didn't want to.

Once he realized that, he knew this feeling had been lingering, hidden inside him, for a long time.

Not their first meeting, he knew. For one thing, he wasn't so sappy as to believe in love at first sight. Lust? Sure. But you couldn't love someone you didn't know. And on their first meeting he'd been mostly amused and maybe a touch annoyed. Annoyance he'd quickly dismissed because, really, what was the point? It wasn't going to change her, or the situation, and he only had to put up with her for a few days, maybe a week. Besides, amused was more fun and less work, plus it had the added benefit of throwing her off her game. He'd pushed her a little in retaliation for her obvious prejudices, but that was just a bit of fun.

And he'd been truly repentant when she'd collapsed. Unlike the agents he'd dealt with previously, this girl had never been to the surface before. She didn't know anything about the physical body she'd been forced into. He hadn't realized it, though he probably should have with the way she'd been going on about not needing sleep or food. He'd thought she was being prideful, but apparently it was pure ignorance. He should have realized it sooner. Should have seen the signs. Shouldn't have been having so much fun teasing her that he'd let her get in this condition.

That wasn't love though, it was pure human decency. Dingo didn't like to see people suffering. Why else would he do what he did?

Maybe it was then –that second night– that it'd happened. Seeing her stubbornly fight through her illness, determined not to abort her mission. Seeing how she truly tried. Actually, he could probably pinpoint it further than that: it was probably the moment where she was showed up on the roof behind him while he was playing with his guitar - when she should have been sleeping her fever away and instead had come out to ask him how anyone could feel music in their bones. And after she'd been so cocky and arrogant and derisive all day, at that moment he realized that it had to be a front, because, when she was at her weakest and most vulnerable, here she was trying to relate to him.

How could he not love that?

Yeah, that was probably when it had happened. His teasing after that had taken a definite turn toward flirting. And, though he'd been too busy fighting for their lives at the time to dwell on it, he remembered the aching rush of _something_ that had lingered at the edges of his perception when she'd loaded back into her physical body. It had been completely different than the sensation when he'd hauled the empty shell of her body out to her Arhan. The tepid flesh of that firm thigh against his palm had done nothing for him. Warm and alive, the mere brush of her fingers set every nerve ending pleasantly humming.

Yeah. That was definitely when it had happened. That first week. Had to be.

It made him feel better, somehow, to pin it down like that. Not that he was going to do anything with the knowledge.

It wouldn't be fair to tell her. Whether or not she might feel something for him, he was all she had planet-side and he didn't want to take that from her or, worse, make her feel pressured to return his feelings. It'd been a very long time since he'd been in a romantic relationship, or even a physical one, so it wasn't going to kill him to keep his feelings to himself. Being beside her was enough.

So he let the knowledge linger, but pushed it to the back of his mind, keeping their interactions friendly –caring even– but strictly platonic. It helped that Angela didn't seem to have even a remote interest in men. She didn't even have friends other than him, though not for lack of encouragement on his part. She said she didn't need them. That they were too much trouble, especially with the way the two of them moved around. He tried not to read too much into the obvious implication – that all she needed was him.

When she finally jumped him he thought he was dreaming, silly as that sounded. He wasn't old by any means –he was barely thirty now, he'd been twenty-eight when they met; he'd asked her age once and she'd said according to the DEVA database she'd been twenty-three when they first met; five years wasn't such a big difference; twelve years? well, really, how big a difference was that when they were both adults?– but still, he wasn't anything special. He swung between opportunistic and lazy; he cared as much about music as people, most times; he lacked ambition even though he was willing to work hard. He wasn't the sort of guy who tried to get ahead, and Angela had spent most of her life doing nothing but that, so it was strange that she would be attracted to him. Although, he supposed, no stranger than the fact that he was attracted to her. And, maybe, it made poetic sense, really.

In the end, he supposed, it didn't matter when they'd fallen in love or why, it only mattered that they _did_ love one another. And they did. He felt it burning inside him, saw it every time she looked at him with those beautiful, devastating eyes. And for a go-with-the-flow guy like him that was more than enough.

Still, someday maybe he'd tell her. If she wanted to know. And maybe she'd tell him when it was she'd fallen in love with him. He had enough ego to be curious.

"Dingo!"

The familiar sharpness in her voice roused him from his reflections and he pushed up on his elbows to peer over the side of the roof at his lover, tilting his hat back to sit properly on his head in the process. She had one hand perched on a canted hip, the other raised to shield her eyes from the light of the sun as she scowled up at his figure.

He couldn't help the grin that stretched his lips wide.

"Need something, Ange?" he called down.

The scowl deepened. "Yes, I need something. You've been gone an hour. You want to tell me how running out to adjust the flow intakes became taking a cat nap in the full desert sun? If you have a sunburn you're sleeping on the couch. That salve reeks."

Dingo swung himself around to slide off the edge of the extremely modified trailer roof, landing at Angela's feet with barely a ripple of dust.

"Relax, Ange, I had my hat."

"That is so not the point," she grumbled.

He leaned in and pressed a swift kiss to her pouting lips. "Sorry I worried you."

Angela blinked at him for the moment it took to process that statement and then her face turned red and she whacked his shoulder. "Who said I was worried, idiot?"

The label was, by far, the most frequent she used to address him and he'd long ago learned it was more endearment that insult. Still, he knew her well enough to know there was a bit of that in it too. There were times she probably questioned his intellect _and_ his sanity, even now.

The knowledge turned his thoughts back to the end of his earlier musings.

Yeah. He'd like to know when the meticulous, conscientious, by-the-book Angela Balzac had fallen in love with an idiot like him.

XXXXXXXXXX

A/N: Finally, a Dingo POV chapter. Got one more fully written that's half Dingo POV, half Angela. I have several more in the works. We'll see what happens. Thanks for reading!


	12. Genesis

GENESIS

"Expelled from Paradise."

Dingo looked up at the non-sequitur, finger pausing in its task of tracing patterns on his lover's bare skin. He quirked a curious brow. "Hmm?"

Angela pushed up on an elbow and turned her head to look at him. "That's what I told Frontier Setter when we were breaking out of DEVA. That now I knew what Adam and Eve felt like when they were expelled from Paradise."

"So, in this scenario, I'm Adam?" he asked, amused. If they were Adam and Eve they were seriously failing at the "be fruitful and multiply" command. Though not for lack of practice. He suspected DEVA had left that function out of their "material bodies". It wasn't as though they considered it useful. At any rate, it was a good thing they weren't actually the only man and woman on earth or the human race (as a physical species) would be doomed.

"Except you rejected paradise from the start," Angela teased. "I thought you were crazy back then."

"I am crazy," Dingo retorted with a chuckle.

Angela only smiled and lowered herself back to lie flat on the bed, stomach cushioned against the sheets and arms crossed to protect her breasts from a painful squashing. Her eyes flitted closed as his fingers resumed their feather-light paths across her flesh and she sighed, clearly pleased.

It was a sound Dingo would never get tired of hearing. Of causing. It seemed to him he'd done a good job of showing her the benefits of this physical world. Though, even now, years after her "expulsion" as she'd just called it, she still complained at times about the limits of her physical body. Now that she brought it up he wondered if a part of her still regretted it. But then, she'd made the choice in the end, and she wasn't the sort to regret a decision once it had been made. She'd been kicked out of DEVA, but it wasn't as though she hadn't had other options.

"Did you consider it?" he asked quietly. Angela hummed in sleepy question. "Going with Frontier Setter to explore the cosmos?" he clarified. It wasn't important, he told himself, he was just curious. And that tugging sensation, that little twinge of discomfort, it was just heartburn. Sandworm chili did that to a man, especially when eaten as a late night snack.

Angela's eyes flitted open once more. "Did you?"

Dingo shook his head. Much as he'd liked Frontier Setter, Earth was his home. He couldn't abandon it. "But it was different for you. You hated the physical world."

"Oh, there were some parts I liked." She lowered her lashes at him seductively.

Dingo chuckled and leaned in to place a kiss to her spine. "Flattering as that thought is, I know you weren't entertaining it at the time."

Angela carded her fingers through his hair and he leaned into the pleasant touch. She seemed to be considering him and he waited patiently. "The answer is no," she said at length. "I didn't consider accepting his offer."

"Why not?"

Angela shrugged, but it seemed to him it was less an indication that she didn't know as that she wasn't sure how to say it.

"I was so afraid you would say yes," he confessed. She tilted her head at him, confused. "Not now. It doesn't matter now. But then. When he said he was waiting for your answer. Everything stopped for me. My heartbeat, my breath. It was like I was frozen just for a moment." He chuckled. "It was pretty stupid, actually. I could have got shot."

She ignored his attempt at humor. "Why would I have gone with him?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Now it was his turn to shrug. "You seemed pretty confused why I would want to stay. Something about a 'meat prison'." He gave her a small grin.

"Did I call it that?" she mused. She rolled onto her side to face him, though her focus seemed more on whatever memories she was searching than on him.

She had once, not that he was going to remind her that it was a direct quote.

"There might also have been some whining about how barren and miserable it was down here." That was paraphrasing, but he mostly did it to get a rise, and was pleased when she used the hand not supporting the weight of her head to give him a light shove. He rocked back with a chuckle and she returned his affable grin.

They lapsed into a comfortable, contemplative silence, and Dingo thought he might just have started drifting back to sleep when her quiet voice broke the stillness.

"I guess . . . I guess if I had to continue my life in an unknown world . . ." she trailed off and waited until he met her frank gaze. "I guess I wanted to do it with someone I trusted."

The words awed him, just a little. He rolled toward her, prompting her to drop over onto her back so that he could balance above her, and caught her mouth in a passionate kiss. When he finally pulled away he rested his forehead against hers. "I love you," he whispered.

She smiled up at him, hand raising to pet the side of his face. "I love you too."

He kissed her again, but then a thought occurred to him, prompting him to pull back once more, ignoring her frustrated groan.

"How did you know?"

"Know what"

"That Frontier Setter offered to take me with him?"

Angela smiled. "Well, of course he would. The two of you got along so well."

They shared a gentle smile and Angela attempted to coax him back into another kiss, but he had one more question.

"So, what brought all this up anyway?"

"Hmm?"

"The expulsion thing. Adam and Eve. All that. What made you remember it now?"

This time, when she guided his chin downward, he allowed her to capture his lips. She was thorough, and warm, and this was his favorite pastime, so she'd almost driven the open question from his mind entirely when at last she pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips: "Because I was wrong. This is paradise."

Dingo grinned as their lips met once more. Yeah, he had to agree with her there. This was definitely his kind of paradise, and he wasn't going to let anyone or anything kick them out of it.

* * *

A/N: So . . . after a long absence I have returned. Sorry about that, I totally forgot I had two finished fics sitting on my hard drive that I never posted. Not to worry though, I just re-watched the movie and, once again, had a flood of inspiration and new ideas. I swear, the chemistry between these characters is perfect. This is actually a new fic I was inspired to write over the weekend. I've got one more that I've completed a rough draft on, and then I still have the two I didn't post last year, and a few other ideas simmering on the back burner, so I'll be posting at least a few more one-shots to this collection in the next few weeks. Thanks to everyone who has read, followed, favorited and reviewed! You guys rock.

reenas-as


	13. Acrophobia

ACROPHOBIA

They were sitting atop a high plateau, waiting for a supplier rendezvous, and Dingo was bored. Marius was always late and Dingo hated to bring his guitar out to the middle of nowhere like this. For one thing, it'd be difficult to climb the sheer sides of the desert flattop with the instrument strapped to his back. For another, sand ruined the finish. Honestly, he didn't know why Marius insisted on meeting in places like this. Sure, they had the high ground if they were ambushed, but they had to climb down at some point. Still, eccentric quirks were par for the course here on terra firma, and he wasn't about to insult one of his best suppliers over a little extra exercise.

He stood up to stretch his legs a little, wandering to peer down over the edge to the ground far below, and then pulled out his binoculars to look for any sign of Marius' approach. It was difficult to see in the encroaching gloom of near-sunset and he flipped the switch for night vision briefly, just to be on the safe side.

At least the man had the sense not to schedule these meetings for the middle of the afternoon. No amount of ore was worth frying out here like bacon in a pan.

A slight scuffling in the dirt behind him reminded him of Angela's comforting presence, but he kept his eyes trained on the horizon. Maybe she was awake from her nap and they could play cards or something. Or maybe a word game, since it would be dark soon. Didn't want to waste the flashlight's limited batteries.

The sounds of movement stopped and he sensed his partner's gaze on him, though she hadn't joined him. He shrugged it off and made another sweep of the area.

"Hey. I thought you had acrophobia?"

Dingo frowned, lowering his binoculars, and turned to arch a quizzical brow at her. "What?"

"It means fear of heights," Angela clarified. She was standing now, a few meters behind him.

"I know what it means. Why did you think I was afraid of heights?"

Angela blinked at him, expression first confused, but that soon melted into a familiar scowl of irritation. She propped her hands on her hips, which was more adorable than sultry now that they'd gotten her some decent work clothes instead of that barely-there flight suit, but still thoroughly distracting.

"Wh— Because you told me so!" she practically sputtered, color rising.

The accusation genuinely confused Dingo. "What?" He racked his memory, trying to recall such a conversation.

Angela stamped a foot in a show of petulance that he found adorable, though he wouldn't admit it to her anytime soon. "You did," she insisted. "Back during our first mission together. When you made me climb that old skyscraper to survey the area from higher ground. You said you had a bad fear of heights."

Now that she mentioned it . . . that . . . _might_ have happened. "Oh. That."

"Oh that?!" Angela repeated, incredulous. He was pretty sure her jaw was gaping most unbecomingly. Another thing he'd not be telling her – ever. "What do you mean _that_?!"

She practically spat the last word and Dingo winced. He scratched at the back of his head. "Yeah, well, that was more of a joke. Kind of."

She looked like she might have a fit. "A joke? My lungs were on fire. I practically collapsed."

In retrospect, it had probably been stupid and petty. Especially with her just recovered from that fever. But she kept going on and on about everything being no problem, even after she'd spent four days in bed, and he'd been a touch irritated. He'd wanted to tease her a bit. Also, he'd wanted to see if she could do it in those ridiculous heels. Honestly, what was DEVA thinking when they designed those suits? They were impractical in every way. "But you were so cute. Huffing and puffing, and accusing me of reversing roles." Okay, probably not the best defense he could have offered. Yeah, definitely not judging from the death glare she was now treating him to. A seventeen-year-old body should not be that intimidating. Especially not in worn jeans and an oversized plaid button-down.

"Cute!" She was practically shrieking now. "That's your reason?" She took a menacing step toward him. "Why you lazy, chauvinistic—"

Dingo raised both hands defensively and took a step back. Fortunately, they'd turned to parallel the edge of the plateau, so he wasn't in danger of falling over. He might not be afraid of heights, but that didn't mean he had any desire to die at the end of a long fall. "Hey now. Angela, that was a long time ago." Surely she wouldn't kill him over a bad joke. Not after all these months together. They were partners, right?

She advanced and he retreated. He grew more nervous as the pattern repeated and her anger did not abate, and was just tossing around some ideas to diffuse the situation –ones that wouldn't involving saying something else stupid and his partner pushing him off a cliff– when a cloud of dust on the horizon caught the dying light and Dingo's attention.

Their supplier had arrived. Thank God.

He pointed behind her. "Looks like Marius final decided to show."

Angela stared at him with laser focus. He winced as her hand darted toward him, anticipating a slap, but she only snatched the binoculars from his hands and turned to survey the rising cloud.

"So it would seem," she acknowledged crisply.

It was like a switch had been thrown, and she was suddenly all business. Dingo subconsciously began to relax, but then a backward glare from his partner had him tensing once more. "We're not done with this discussion," she promised.

Dingo nodded obediently, eyes wide. It seemed he'd have to keep working on those plans anyway. Hopefully he could put them into motion before he had to climb down a sheer rock wall with a highly irritated and irrational partner. He didn't think she'd really kill him, but she sometimes still had a shaky grasp of what the human body could and could not withstand. He didn't want to spend months nursing a broken bone (or several) if she misjudged the distance when she shoved him to the ground.

The thought had Dingo looking down over the edge of the plateau with a gulp.

Maybe a little acrophobia wouldn't be out of place after all.

XXXX

A/N: Argh! This movie! Every time I watch it new things pop out at me. And there's so much good material in that scene where she's climbing the stairs in the skyscraper and he's providing tech support. This one takes place roughly one year after she becomes stranded on earth, which makes it about one year until they become a couple in this fic-verse. So Dingo knows he likes her, but she doesn't know that yet. Hope you enjoyed.

reenas-as


	14. Distraction I

DISTRACTION (PART I)

Angela was cursing. Loudly and quite colorfully. It made Dingo smile. He couldn't recall if her vocabulary had been quite so extensive when they first started working together. He didn't think so. He rarely swore himself, but in their line of work they dealt with plenty of people who did. Abandoning his task, he settled back against the Jeep to watch her as she continued to pat down her dusty clothing and then moved on to untangle the mess that had formerly been her twin ponytails. He often wondered why she kept her hair so long, but he'd never asked. Maybe because he was afraid she'd cut it if he did. He liked it long, he realized.

She finished detangling the second half of her hair and pulled both halves back into their neat tails. The movement of her fingers was quick and economical, with nothing wasted, but it was also elegant and graceful. Almost seductive actually. The thought startled him and his foot slid off the side of the Jeep to hit the ground.

It wasn't like Dingo didn't know Angela could be seductive. He'd watched her work over more than one merchant, and even snare a bounty, using her womanly wiles, though she never took it too far. It was just that in their day-to-day life he tried to keep his observations of her strictly platonic. After all, they were partners and roommates, nothing more. And, God, he couldn't think of much more embarrassing than the thought of her catching him calling her name in his sleep. Keep your conscious thoughts clean and your unconscious will generally keep in line – that was Dingo's general opinion on the matter.

But he had to admit she was attractive. A man would have to be blind not to see that, and even then, there was more to her than physical beauty. She was intelligent and witty and capable and– okay, a little uptight, but also genuinely fun. Her smile could light up the darkest of days, and her laughter was the sweetest music he'd ever heard.

His thoughts were turning oddly poetic and Dingo was stopped short a second time. What the heck? It wasn't like him to be so sappy. It was almost like he was in l—

Dingo frowned and pushed off the Jeep, frame straightening without conscious thought. He'd actually taken two steps toward her before he caught himself and deliberately moved back to his previous position, mind racing.

No. Couldn't be . . . Could it?

He tilted his head slightly to one side, eyes tracing her form. She'd finished with her hair and was working at her clothes again, probably collecting loose strands. She'd let off cursing and was now muttering under her breath – probably insulting him directly now, instead of just the job. He was pretty sure he'd caught the word "idiot" tossed around a few times. Insane too. Her two favorite descriptors for him.

When that thought made his chest warm and a smile stretch across his cheeks he knew he was doomed.

He was in love with his partner.

Damn. That was trouble, one way or another. Still, he couldn't say he regretted the realization. Dingo was an honest man by nature; he didn't like to lie to himself.

Lying to Angela though . . . well, he didn't like it, but in this instance it seemed to him discretion was the better part of valor. It wasn't as though he didn't have reason to keep his feelings to himself.

Angela had only been on the surface a year. There was still a lot of this world she hadn't seen and things could change at any moment. Not that Angela was fickle or prone to whimsy and rash decisions, but nothing said she had to stay with him forever.

There was also an age difference. Even setting aside the years she'd shaved off her physical body in her rush to catch Frontier Setter, there was a gap of at least five years. Something like that probably didn't matter on DEVA, but it could in the real world.

And then they lived together. That had the potential to turn very awkward. Worse, Angela might feel obligated. She wasn't, by any means, but she had a strict moral code and he still wasn't sure what all the nuances of it were. Their partnership was a benefit to both of them, but she might feel she owed him a debt.

"Dingo!"

His head whipped up at her snappish tone and he quirked a brow in question.

"Weren't you putting those away?" Her gaze shifted pointedly to the half-empty cases of heavy munitions that had been required for this job, and the miscellaneous parts he'd yet to pack back in them.

"Uh. On it." Crap. How had he let himself get so distracted?

He turned and began cleaning and storing the pieces as quickly as he could. But even still his gaze occasionally slid back toward his partner.

She caught him looking and arched a brow.

He grinned in spite of himself.

In his defense, she was pretty damn distracting.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Dingo was staring at her, the barest hint of a smile curling the corners of his lips. It was irritating. Where did he get off taking amusement in her appearance? Especially since it was entirely his fault she was in this disheveled state. Honestly, couldn't they, just once, take a normal job? One that didn't require rolling around in the desert sand or blowing things up?

Actually, this was the surface, so probably not. Unless she wanted to stay back in town and work at the bar. Or a shop.

She grimaced at the thought. Boring.

Dingo had obediently returned to his task after her scolding, but every so often his gaze darted to her and his lips would twitch.

Like she had _asked_ that sudden gust of wind to blow her direction moments after _his_ explosion sent ten metric tons of sand into the air between them? Not likely.

He was working with practiced efficiency now, despite the way his eyes kept wandering. It was irritating. He was so good at everything even when he was distracted. Angela wasn't like that. Oh, she was good at everything, but she had to keep laser-like focus on the task at hand at all times.

Well, she didn't suppose she had to. She liked to. And she'd always managed it until she met him. Now she was expected to do things like keep up conversation while climbing countless ladder rungs in abandoned buildings with heavy coils of wire over her shoulder.

Okay, that part had only happened the once, but Dingo always liked to talk. He liked talking almost as much as he liked books. And music.

She couldn't see the point. It was distracting.

Not that Dingo ever seemed to have a problem with that.

Damn, he was infuriating.

Well-worn boots appeared in her field of vision, but she probably wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't spoken.

"Ange? You almost ready?"

She looked down at the bag at her feet and the mess of containers around it that she was supposed to have wiped out and stored inside. Then she shot him a murderous glare.

Dingo was Dingo, so instead of being properly cowed his smile widened.

It was hard to maintain her scowl in the face of that smile and she felt herself soften involuntarily.

Damn cowboy and his damn charm.

He dropped into a crouch and neatly stacked the containers before shoving them into the canvas bag.

Angela opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted before she got the chance.

"We'll wash them at home. The bag too. Come on." He jerked his head toward the Jeep as he shouldered the bag and she followed behind obediently, though she could feel her cheeks heating with a flush.

Damn it. She hated it when he did things like that. She could carry her own weight. And, okay, it wasn't like she'd lazed around on this job, and it wasn't a big thing that he took the bag, and she _had_ been distracted— but he'd been distracted first! And he'd been the one to distract her too.

So, really, it was all Dingo's fault and he _should_ be stuck with the cleanup. Because it was all his fault. So there was nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.

"Angela?"

With a start Angela realized she'd stopped walking at some point. Dingo was waiting with the passenger door pulled open for her – something she thought was pointless, but he said was gentlemanly.

Her cheeks heated anew and she nearly growled as she stomped forward, unaccountably irritated with him even though it was her feet that had stopped walking.

Why was he so damn distracting?

* * *

A/N: *Sheepish smile* Um . . . So, I didn't actually mean to disappear for a month without posting these _again_. I just sort of . . . forgot I hadn't posted them. So here's part 1 of "Distraction", followed next week by part 2, if I remember . . . Thanks for reading.

reenas-as


	15. Distraction II

DISTRACTION (PART II)

Angela was cursing. Quietly, but quite colorfully. It made Dingo smile, though he made a mental note to keep her away from Barry in the future. She was using words in languages he was pretty sure he'd never heard of and their munitions supplier was the only person he could think of who might have taught them to her.

As near as Dingo could figure, the source of her frustration was the general heat of the desert at midday. Or, rather, the fact that they'd been out in it for more than an hour now, hiding behind this damned uncomfortable rock formation, and their quarry had still yet to surface. Dingo was accustomed to long stake outs, so he wasn't concerned, things happened, after all, and even criminals could be delayed. Angela had been raised in a much different environment though. To her, timeliness was important, and even years on the surface hadn't broken her of that habit.

Dingo shifted slightly, easing the beginnings of a cramp from his left leg. He popped his neck and flexed his fingers, wishing the rock was big enough to risk standing to stretch his back and arms. It wasn't, so he settled for crouching forward, back pulled into a taught arch, like a cat's, arms out behind him. It took him a moment to realize his companion had fallen silent and he tilted his chin back to peer at her under the brim of his hat.

She was watching him.

He smiled. "Hey." He brought his arms back around to rest on his knees and leaned his back against the outcropping behind them.

She blinked and her gaze darted down to his hands and then back up to meet his. "Uh. Hey." Her answer was quiet and absent. Distracted.

His smile widened and he deliberately moved one arm to slowly stretch above his head. Angela's eyes followed the motion.

This was kind of fun. He wondered how long he could get away with it before she clobbered him.

Dingo stretched each limb, one at a time, with careful deliberation, and Angela's gaze glazed over as she tracked them. Maybe it was his imagination, but she seemed a little more flushed now – like maybe it wasn't only the desert sun affecting her. He picked up his canteen and took a swallow. Her gaze drifted to his Adam's apple and she bit her lip.

He held the canteen out toward her.

"You want some?"

She didn't answer, eyes still trained on his throat.

He cleared it. "Angela, water?"

She started. "What?"

He shook the canteen and the water sloshed against the sides. "Water?"

"Uh, sure."

Yep, definitely extra red in her cheeks there. He wasn't sure why she was embarrassed though – it wasn't like she didn't distract him too. In fact, the drop of water that escaped the corner of her mouth and was now trailing down her neck toward her collarbone was a pretty worthy distraction, if anyone asked him.

He wanted to lean forward and catch it on the tip of his tongue. Wanted to follow the path it would have taken, down her neck, across the dip between her collar bones, further. He swallowed hard against the desire, his fists clenching against his thighs. Damn, he wished this guy would hurry it up. There were much more pleasant ways to spend an afternoon.

XXX

Angela lowered the canteen and held it out to Dingo, frowning when he didn't move to take it. Her gaze moved to catch his, only to find him staring intently at the general vicinity of her shoulders. Her brows furrowed and she swiped at a drop of water tickling the skin there. As she did he swallowed and his fists tightened at his sides until the knuckles were almost white. Seemingly unconsciously his eyes followed her hand as it slid from her neck, down her side, to rest in her lap.

He licked his lips.

Angela smiled. He was distracted.

Turnabout was fair play, she figured. That little stretch show a moment ago had definitely been intentional. Not that she minded. She was damned bored and it wasn't as though she didn't have the right to stare at Dingo whenever she wanted. He was hers, wasn't he?

Still, it was a little embarrassing to be caught out in the middle of a job. Which was why she had every intention of returning the favor.

She trailed her hands down the side seam of her pants, delighting as his gaze followed. Next she traced the full line of her sides up to her neck and slid her hand around to gather her hair and lift it off her nape, arching her back to assist in letting what little breeze there was reach her sweat slick skin.

Dingo's fingers twitched.

She smiled, a sly little grin. Yeah. Thoroughly distracted. Maybe it was a good thing their mark hadn't shown yet.

She released her hair, deliberately letting it fall wild so that the ends brushed his bare arm on the way down. Dingo's eyes followed the descent, a shiver and a slightly audible intake of breath revealing the effect the contact had on him. His eyes were slightly vacant now and she wondered what fantasy was playing out in his head at the moment, and how closely it mirrored the one she'd indulged in a few minutes ago.

She bit her lip and considered leaning forward to make at least part of that fantasy reality. She didn't have much interest in sex out in the open – and definitely not in the middle of the desert. There were places she'd rather not get a sunburn, and even more that would not appreciate invasion by the abrasive sand. But there were a lot of fun things that could be done with all their clothing still in place.

There could be kissing. And caressing. And maybe grinding. Grinding usually led to the removal of clothing, but they were both adults – they could exercise some self-restraint.

Her limbs twitched at the thought and she braced her weight on her hands, prepared to push herself off the ground and straddle him. There was a low hum in the distance, but she ignored it, much more interested in the hungry light that kindled in Dingo's eyes when he realized her intent. His hands started to raise, as though to reach out to assist her, but then they closed convulsively as his eyes widened and he swore.

Angela blinked, confused at the sudden change.

"Wh—"

"Gotta move, sweetheart," he interrupted before she could even get the one-word question out. He was already scrambling to his feet – though Dingo never really "scrambled", his movements were too smooth to ever be called a scramble, he was moving with alacrity though. He reached a hand down to pull her to her feet. "Our guest is a little late."

Guest?

To Angela's shame it took her a few seconds to reconcile his words, and when she did she cursed loudly and colorfully.

Now? Their mark had to show up _now_? Of course, better now than in five or ten minutes. How embarrassing would it be to have their man escape because they were too busy making out to notice?

Angela felt a flush creep up her neck and scowled. Dingo laughed, evidently completely unrepentant.

"Get a move on, Ange," he admonished lightly. "Now is not the time to be distracted."

She almost threw something at him. Almost. Only, there really wasn't any time to waste, and there wasn't anything to throw either, since he had the canteen. Besides, there were better ways to work out her annoyance – like catching the jerk who'd interrupted them.

"Get in the go-cart, Dingo," she growled.

Dingo grinned and bowed his head as he complied. Angela grumbled as she climbed in beside him.

"This is all your fault," she complained.

His eyes twinkled. "I know."

It wasn't, and they both knew it. Still, she wasn't going to concede.

"Idiot," she grumbled instead.

Dingo's grin only widened, and damned if she didn't find her mind wandering back to thoughts of kissing it right off his lips.

She hunched down in her seat. "Just drive," she muttered, "or he'll get away."

"Right, right. I'm on it."

Angela crossed her arms and stared sullenly out into the desert as they gave chase. Dingo was an excellent driver, and familiar with the terrain, so it wouldn't take them long to catch up. Pretty soon they'd have this guy collared and be back on their way to town.

Dingo's hands moved on the gear shift and her eyes were drawn there against her will. He had elegant hands. Capable hands. She loved the things he could do with those hands – both on the job and in their personal life.

She sighed and let her arms drop into her lap. Honestly, there was no point in keeping up a front. She could never stay angry at him for long – he was just too damn distracting.

* * *

A/N: I remembered! So, we had a one shot on distraction before they are a couple and now one after. A little UST. Please forgive any typos - having a very hectic/rough work week so my brain is lagging a bit. Thanks for reading!

reenas-as


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